PZ 

3 





SSaHONOD JO AHVMan 




f 


I 



Class T Zb 

Rnnk , VA 5 V % WW 

Gofpght'N? : 

COPyRIGHT DEPOSnV 


♦ 


If' 


n: 


* / 


* I 


. J * I 

m'-Sik 



• ' > i'v 11' ^ '• •■. -Jb' JBESB -k*! 

‘ H? *aJ^^ 


V 4»H? a :V.t , > 

% ' o i™/ 

,<-* ‘v. -■_ ■ ' •'- 






C - A 
^ iSpa _> • aJI 


r' 


r%> 

K \ 'i. 


K , ;• -. 

.*f* - 


., ‘^<L- J . 

•* 

V 


^JL'>.‘' ':■ 





W v/t.. % *.• 




THE CRANE CLASSICS 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER, 

AND 

BIOaEAPHICAL STOEIES 


NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 


WITH BIOGRAPHY AND NOTES 


BY 


MARGARET HILL McOARTER, 

t ' 

Former Teacher of English and American Literature, 
Topeka High School. 


CRANE & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 
TOPEKA, KANSAS 
1906 


UBRAKY of OONGKtSS 
: Two Copies rieceivcu 

MAfi 0 1905 

Oopyngni 

DUSS >9 AAc. Mos 


3 ^ 


Copyright 1905, 

By Crane & Company, 
Topeka, Kansas 


COSTTENTS. 


PAGE. 

Sketch of Nathaniel Hawthorne 5 

Note to the Miraculous Pitcher and Biographical 

Stories 9 

The Miraculous Pitcher 11 

Biographical Stories 35 










SKETCH OF NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 


ITathaniel Hawthorne Avas born in the old toAvn of 
Salem, Massachusetts, on July 4, 1804. He died in Con- 
cord, Massachusetts, on May 19, 1864. His father, who 
Avas a sea-captain, died when his son Avas very young, so 
that the boy retained no memory of him. His mother, 
Avhose maiden name was Elizabeth Clarke Manning, Avas 
a beautiful and gifted woman. Hathaniel was one of 
tAvo children, and the only son. 

In the old colonial days Salem Avas perhaps the most 
famous American seaport. From its great warehouses 
goods Avent out into ships that sailed to all open ports. 
Its wealth and prosperity in the day of its greatness out- 
ranked all of our other seaboard toAvns. Salem, too, was 
noted for its era of colossal superstition, Avhen supposed 
witches were tortured to death and mercy seemed to have 
forsaken the hearts of its magistrates and rulers. 

At the time of HaAvthorne’s birth, Salem was in its 
declining age. Boston and Hew York had draAvn away 
its commerce by sea, and vacant buildings and rotting 
Avharves remained in the place of its former prosperity. 
At this time, too, the old traditions and remnants of a 
past superstition were still in the air. These things Avere 
a part of the general heritage of Hathaniel IlaAvthorne^s 
early years. And, like all other early impressions, they 
left their imprint on his mentality. 

At the age of fourteen HaAvthorne’s mother removed 
(5) 


6 


THE CEAHE CLASSICS 


with her family to Raymond, Maine, near Sebago Lake, 
where the family owned land. Here the boy spent a few 
solitary although not unhappy years. He skated alone in 
winter over the moonlit ice of the lake. In summer he 
wandered alone in the deep woods. He had a shy, sensi- 
tive nature, and this secluded life only intensified these 
qualities. The infiuence of these years upon his literary 
power, however, was beneficial. His nearness to Hature, 
his knowledge of wood-lore and his concentration of mind 
bore fruit in the days when his pen was most able and 
his fame waxed great. 

In Bow'doin College Hawthorne was the classmate of 
Franklin Pierce and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. As 
a scholar he did not especially distinguish himself, but his 
literary genius was promising, and the inclination to lit- 
erature as a calling was fostered then. It must be re- 
corded, however, that the publishers of that time had 
small belief in his worth, and either refused him alto- 
gether or paid him only a trifie for his writings. 

For thirteen years after his graduation from Bowdoin 
College, in 1825, Hawthorne lived a quiet, uneventful 
life in Salem; but they were years of mental maturing 
for him. It was during this time that he began to keep 
his note-books. In these he jotted down his observations 
and his impressions. They show his literary development 
with a wonderful clearness. The Note-Boohs, published 
after his death, contain selections from these wayside jot- 
tings, and show how his masterpieces of literature grew 
toward perfection. 

Hawthorne was three times appointed to public ofiice. 
He was in the Boston custom-house under the historian 


SKETCH OF KATHAKIEL HAWTHOENE 


7 


George Bancroft for a short time. In 1846 he was sur- 
veyor of the Salem port. In 1853 he was appointed by 
President Franklin Pierce to the office of Consul of the 
United States in Liverpool, England. He spent seven 
years abroad, a part of which time he resided in Italy. 

The last few years of his life were spent in Concord, 
Massachusetts. His funeral was attended by many emi- 
nent men. It fell on a sunshiny day, between days of 
storm and rain. The opening stanza of Longfellow’s 
poem on Hawthorne {May 2S, 186J^) speaks of this: 

“ How beautiful it was, that one bright day 
In the long week of rain! 

Though all its splendors could not chase away 
/ The omnipresent pain.” 

In 1842 Hawthorne was married to Miss Sophia Pea- 
body, of Concord, Massachusetts. She was a woman of 
refinement and beauty of character, and her influence and 
assistance did much for the sensitive man who always 
underestimated his own power. Three children were born 
to this union: Julian, a well-known writer of the present 
time; Una, who took the veil in the Catholic Church and 
died in the convent ; and Kose„ the youngest, who married 
George Parsons Lathrop, a literary man of note. 

Physically, Hawthorne was possessed of much beauty 
and grace of bearing. He had an attractive personality, 
and although he had few intimate friends, he had many 
admirers who came as near to him as it was possible to ap- 
proach a man of his fiber. Among his associates were Ed- 
win P. Whipple, Oliver Wendell Holmes, James T. Fields, 
Kalph Waldo Emerson, Henry Thoreau, and Franklin 
Pierce. 


8 


THE CRAHE CLASSICS 


Among his most noted writings are his allegorical tales, 
The Great Stone Face, The Snow Image, and The Great 
Carhuncle ; his classics for children, including his Wonder 
Booh and Tanglewood Tales; and his Komances, The 
Scarlet Letter, The House of Seven Gables, The Blithe- 
dale Romance, and The Marble Faun. 

For biographical writing upon Hawthorne, perhaps the 
best are Yesterdays with Authors, by James T. Fields; 
A Study of Havjthorne, by George Parsons Lathrop ; and 
Nathaniel Hawthorne and His Wife, by Julian Haw- 
thorne. 

One word as to Hawthorne’s literary qualities. He 
had, first, penetration, the outgrowth of his solitary livings 
Secondly, he had a rare imagination that created marvels. 
His third power was in his choice of words. There was 
an elevation, a keenness and a beauty in all that came 
from his pen. The weirdness of an overwrought imagery 
was tempered by a clear regard for truth, and an exquisite 
color and tone in his masterful control of words. 

Among American authors Hathaniel Hawthorne will 
ever be accorded a first rank, because he was a true artist 
whose delicacy and finish put up a higher, finer standard 
by which all future American literature must be meas- 

Margaret Hill McCarter. 


Topeka, October, 1904. 


NOTE TO THE MTHACIILOUS PITCHER AND 
BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 


The text of this classic is especially adapted to children. 
The tAvo selections shoAV two phases of the anthor^s power 
in this line. The first is the product of the imagination, 
and deals with the mythical and the miraculous. The 
second deals with history in the form of biography, and 
shows how entertaining it may become to children when 
it is adapted to their comprehension. HaAvthorne’s best 
work was not done for children, hut there is a simplicity 
and directness about his stories for them that make chil- 
dren appreciate him and take instruction from him. 


( 9 ) 



4 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 


One evening, in times long ago, old Philemon and his 
old wife Paucis sat at their cottage door, enjoying the calm 
and beautiful sunset. They had already eaten their frugal 
supper, and intended now to spend a quiet hour or two be- 
fore bedtime. So they talked together about their garden, 
and their cow, and their bees, and their grapevine, which 
clambered over the cottage wall, and on which the grapes 
were beginning to turn purple. But the rude shouts of 
children, and the fierce barking of dogs, in the village near 
at hand, grew louder and louder, until, at last, it was 
hardly possible for Baucis and Philemon to hear each 
other speak. 

^^Ah, wife,” cried Philemon, I fear some poor trav- 
eler is seeking hospitality among our neighbors yonder, 
and, instead of giving him food and lodging, they have set 
their dogs at him, as their custom is ! ” 

Welladay ! ” answered old Baucis, “ I do wish our 
neighbors felt a little more kindness for their fellow-crea- 
tures. And only think of bringing up their children in 
this naughty way, and patting them on the head when they 
fling stones at strangers ! ” 

Those children will never come to any good,” said 
Philemon, shaking his white head. To tell you the truth, 
wife, I should not wonder if some terrible thing were to 
happen to all the people in the village, unless they mend 
their manners. But as for you and me, so long as Provi- 
( 11 ) 


12 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


dence affords us a crust of bread, let us be ready to give 
half to any poor, homeless stranger that may come along 
and need it.’’ 

That’s right, husband ! ” said Baucis. So we will.” 

These old folks, you must know, were quite poor, and 
had to work pretty hard for a living. Old Philemon toiled 
diligently in his garden, while Baucis was always busy 
with her distaff, or making a little butter and cheese with 
their cow’s milk, or doing one thing and another about the 
cottage. Their food was seldom anything but bread, milk, 
and vegetables, with sometimes a portion of honey from 
their beehive, and now and then a bunch of grapes that 
had ripened against the cottage wall. 

But they were two of the kindest old people in the 
world, and would cheerfully have gone without their din- 
ners any day rather than refuse a slice of their brown loaf, 
a cup of new milk, and a spoonful of honey to the weary 
traveler who might pause before their door. They felt as 
if such guests had a sort of holiness, and that they ought 
therefore to treat them better and more bountifully than 
their own selves. 

Their cottage stood on a rising ground at some distance 
from a village which lay in a hollow valley that was ab<*>ut 
half a mile in breadth. This valley in past ages, when the 
world was new, had probably been the bed of a lake. There 
fishes had glided to and fro in the depths, and water-weeds 
had grown along the margin, and trees and hills had seen 
their reflected images in the broad and peaceful mirror. 
But as the waters subsided men had cultivated the soil and 
built houses on it, so that it was now a fertile spot, and 
bore no traces of the ancient lake except a very small brook 


the miraculous pitcher 


13 


which meandered throup^h the midst of the village, and sup- 
plied the inhabitants with water. The valley had been dry 
land so long, that oaks had sprung up, and grown great 
and high, and perished with old age, and been succeeded 
by others, as tall and stately as the first. !N^ever was there 
a prettier or more fruitful valley. The very sight of the 
plenty around them should have made the inhabitants kind 
and gentle, and ready to show their gratitude to Providence 
by doing good to their fellow-creatures. 

But we are sorry to say, the people of this lovely village 
were not worthy to dwell in a spot on which Heaven had 
smiled so beneficently. They were a very selfish and hard- 
hearted people, and had neither pity for the poor nor sym- 
pathy with the homeless. They would only have laughed, 
had anybody told them that human beings owe a debt of 
love to one another, because there is no other method of 
paying the debt of love and care which all of us owe to 
Providence. You will hardly believe what I am going to 
tell you. 

These naughty people taught their children to be no bet- 
ter than themselves, and used to clap their hands, by way 
of encouragement, when they saw the little boys and girls 
run after some poor stranger, shouting at his heels, and 
pelting him with stones. They kept large and fierce dogs, 
and whenever a traveler ventured to show himself in the 
village street, this pack of disagreeable curs scampered to 
meet him, barking, snarling, and showing their teeth. Then 
they would seize him by his leg, or by his clothes, just as 
it happened ; and if he were ragged when he came, he was 
generally a pitiable object before he had time to run away. 
This was a very terrible thing to poor travelers, as you may 


14 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


suppose, especially when they chanced to be sick, or feeble, 
or lame, or old. Such persons (if they once knew how 
badly these unkind people and their unkind children and 
curs were in the habit of behaving) would go miles and 
miles out of their way rather than try to pass through the 
village again. 

What made the matter seem worse, if possible, was that 
when rich persons came in their chariots or riding on beau- 
tiful horses, with their servants in rich liveries attending 
on them, nobody could be more civil and obsequious than 
the inhabitants of the village. They would take off their 
hats and make the humblest hows you ever saw. If the 
children were rude, they were pretty certain to get their 
ears boxed-; and as for the dogs, if a single cur in the pack 
presumed to yelp, his master instantly heat him with a club 
and tied him up without any supper. 

This would have been all very well, only it proved that 
the villagers cared much about the money that a stranger 
had in his pocket, and nothing whatever for the human 
soul which lives equally in the beggar and the prince. 

So you can now understand why old Philemon spoke so 
sorrowfully when he heard the shouts of the children and 
the harking of the dogs at the farther extremity of the vil- 
lage street. There was a confused din, which lasted a good 
while and seemed to pass quite through the breadth of the 
valley. 

I never heard the dogs so loud,’’ observed the good old 
man. 

Hor the children so rude,” answered his good old wife. 

They sat shaking their heads one to another, while the 
noise came nearer and nearer, until, at the foot of the little 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


15 


eminence on which their cottage stood, they saw two trav- 
elers approaching on foot. Close behind them came the 
fierce dogs snarling at their very heels. 

A little farther off, ran a crowd of children, who sent np 
shrill -cries, and flnng stones at the two strangers, with all 
their might. Once or twice, the younger of the two men 
(he was a slender and very active figure) turned about and 
drove back the dogs with a staff which he carried in his 
hand. His companion, who was a very tall person, walked 
calmly along, as if disdaining to notice either the naughty 
children, or the pack of curs, whose manners the children 
seemed to imitate. 

Both of the travelers were very humbly clad, and looked 
as if they might not have money enough in their pockets 
to pay for a night’s lodging. And this, I am afraid, was 
the reason why the villagers had allowed their children 
and dogs to treat them so rudely. 

Come, wife,” said Philemon to Baucis, let us go and 
meet these poor people. Ho doubt, they feel almost too 
heavy-hearted to climb the hill.” 

Go you and meet them,” answered Baucis, while I 
make haste within-doors, and see whether we can get them 
anything for supper. A comfortable bowl of bread and 
milk would do wonders toward raising their spirits.” 

Accordingly, she hastened into the cottage. Philemon, 
on his part, went forward, and extended his hand with so 
hospitable an aspect that there was no need of saying what 
nevertheless he did say, in the heartiest tone imaginable, — 
Welcome, strangers ! welcome ! ” 

Thank you ! ” replied the younger of the two, in a 
lively kind of way, notwithstanding his weariness and 


16 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


trouble. This is quite another greeting than we have 
met with yonder in the village. Pray, why do you live 
in such a bad neighborhood ? ’’ 

^^Ah ! ’’ observed old Philemon with a quiet and benign 
smile, Providence put me here, I hope, among other rea- 
sons, in order that I may make what amends I can for the 
inhospitality of my neighbors.” 

Well said, old father ! ” cried the traveler, laughing ; 
“ and, if the truth must be told, my companion and myself 
need some amends. Those children (the little rascals!) 
have bespattered us finely with their mud balls, and one 
of the curs has torn my cloak, which was ragged enough 
already. But I took him across the muzzle with my staff, 
and I think you may have heard him yelp even thus 
far off.” 

Philemon was glad to see him in such good spirit ; nor, 
indeed, would you have fancied, by the traveler’s look and 
manner, that he was weary with a long day’s journey, be- 
sides being disheartened by rough treatment at the end of 
it. He was dressed in rather an odd way, with a sort of 
cap on his head, the brim of which stuck out over both ears. 
Though it Was a summer evening, he wore a cloak, which 
he kept wrapped closely about him, perhaps because his 
under-garments were shabby. 

Philemon perceived, too, that he had on a singular pair 
of shoes, but as it was now growing dusk, and as the old 
man’s eyesight was none the sharpest, he could not precisely 
tell in what the strangeness consisted. One thing certainly 
seemed queer: the traveler was so wonderfully light and 
active that it appeared as if his feet sometimes rose from 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


17 


the ground of their own accord or could be kept down only 
by an effort. 

I used to be light-footed in my youth/’ said Philemon 
to the traveler, but I always found my feet growing 
heavier toward nightfall.” 

There is nothing like a good staff to help one along/’ 
answered the stranger ; and I happen to have an excellent 
one, as you see.” 

This staff, in fact, was the oddest-looking staff that 
Philemon had ever beheld. It was made of olive-wood, 
and had something like a little pair of wings near the top. 
Two snakes, carved in the wood, were represented as twin- 
ing themselves about the staff, and were so very skillfully 
executed that old Philemon (whose eyes, you know, were 
getting rather dim) almost thought them alive, and that 
he could see them wriggling and twisting. 

curious piece of work, sure enough ! ” said he. 
staff with wings ! It would be an excellent kind of stick 
for a little boy to ride astride of ! ” 

By this time, Philemon and his two guests had reached 
the cottage door. 

Friends,” said the old man, ^^sit down and rest your- 
selves here on this bench. My good wife Baucis has gone 
to see what you can have for supper. We are poor folks ; 
but you shall be welcome to whatever we have in the 
cupboard.” 

The younger stranger threw himself carelessly on the 
bench, letting his staff fall, as he did so. And here hap- 
pened something rather marvelous, though trifling enough, 
too. The staff seemed to get up from the ground of its 
own accord, and, spreading its little pair of wings, it half 
—2 


18 


THE CRAHE CLASSICS 


hoppedj half flew, and leaned itself against the wall of the 
cottage. There it stood qnite still, except that the snakes 
continued to wriggle. But, in my private opinion, old 
Philemon’s eyesight had been playing him tricks again. 

Before he could ask any questions, the elder stranger 
drew his attention from the wonderful staff, by speaking 
to him. 

^^Was there not,” asked the stranger in a remarkably 
deep tone of voice, a lake, in very ancient times, covering 
the spot where now stands yonder village ? ” 

ISTot in my day, friend,” answered Philemon, and 
yet I am an old man, as you see. There were always the 
fields and meadows just as they are now, and the old trees, 
and the little stream murmuring through the midst of the 
valley, l^either jny father, nor his father before him, ever 
saw it otherwise, so far as I know, and doubtless it will still 
be the same when old Philemon shall be gone and for- 
gotten.” 

That is more than can be safely foretold,” observed 
the stranger; and there was something very stern in his 
deep voice. He shook his head, too, so that his dark and 
heavy curls were shaken with the movement. Since the 
inhabitants of yonder village have forgotten the affections 
and sympathies of their nature, it were better that the lake 
should be rippling over their dwellings again.” 

The traveler looked so stern that Philemon was really 
almost frightened ; the more so, that at his frown the twi- 
light seemed suddenly to grow darker, and that when he 
shook his head there was a roll as of thunder in the air. 

But in a moment afterward the stranger’s face became 
so kind and mild that the old man quite forgot his terror. 


THE MIRACULOUS RITCHER 


19 


Nevertheless, he could not help feeling that this elder trav- 
eler must be no ordinary personage, although he happened 
now to be attired so humbly and to be journeying on foot. 
Not that Philemon fancied him a prince in disguise or 
any character of that sort, but rather some exceedingly wise 
man who went about the world in this poor garb, despising 
wealth and all worldly objects, and seeking everywhere to 
add a mite to his wisdom. This idea appeared the more 
probable, because, when Philemon raised his eyes to the 
stranger’s face, he seemed to see more thought there, in one 
look, than he could have studied out in a lifetime. 

While Baucis was getting the supper, the travelers both 
began to talk very sociably with Philemon. The younger, 
indeed, was extremely loquacious, and made such shrewd 
and witty remarks, that the good old man continually burst 
out a-laughing, and pronounced him the merriest fellow 
whom he had seen for many a day. 

Pray, my young friend,” said he, as they grew fa- 
miliar together, “ what may I call your name ? ” 

^WVhy, I am very nimble, as you see,” answered the 
traveler. So, if you call me Quicksilver, the name will 
fit tolerably well.” 

Quicksilver ? Quicksilver ? ” repeated Philemon, look- 
ing in the traveler’s face to see if he were making fun of 
him. It is a very odd name ! And your companion 
there ? Has he as strange a one ? ” 

You must ask the thunder to tell it you ! ” replied 
Quicksilver, putting on a mysterious look. “No other 
voice is loud enough.” 

This remark, whether it were serious or in jest, might 
have caused Philemon to conceive a very great awe of the 


20 


THE CKANE CLASSICS 


elder stranger, if, on venturing to gaze at him, he had not 
beheld so much beneficence in his visage. But, undoubt- 
edly, here was the grandest figure that ever sat so humbly 
beside a cottage door. When the stranger conversed, it was 
with gravity, and in such a way that Philemon felt irre- 
sistibly moved to tell him everything which he had most 
at heart. This is always the feeling that people have when 
they meet with anyone wise enough to comprehend all 
their good and evil, and to despise not a tittle of it. 

But Philemon, simple and kind-hearted old man that 
he was, had not any secrets to disclose. He talked, how- 
ever, quite garrulously about the events of his past life, 
in the whole course of which he had never been a score of 
miles from this very spot. His wife Baucis, and himself 
dwelt in the cottage from their youth upward, earning 
their bread by honest labor, always poor, but still con- 
tented. He told what excellent butter and cheese Baucis 
made, and how nice were the vegetables which he raised in 
his garden. He said, too, that, because they loved one an- 
other so very much, it was the wish of both that death 
might not separate them, but that they should die, as they 
had lived, together. 

As the stranger listened, a smile beamed over his counte- 
nance and made its expression as sweet as it was grand. 

You are a good old man,’’ said he to Philemon, and 
you have a good old wife to be your helpmeet. It is fit 
that your wish be granted.” 

And it seemed to Philemon just then as if the sunset 
clouds threw up a bright flash from the west and kindled 
a sudden light in the sky. 

Baucis had now got supper ready, and, coming to the 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


21 


door, began to make apologies for the poor fare which she 
was forced to set before her guests. 

Had we known you were coming,^’ said she, my good 
man and myself would have gone without a morsel rather 
than you should lack a better supper. But I took the most 
part of to-day’s milk to make cheese, and our last loaf is 
already half-eaten. Ah, me! I never feel the sorrow of 
being poor save when a poor traveler knocks at our door.” 

^^All will be very well; do not trouble yourself, my good 
dame,” replied the elder stranger kindly. ^^An honest, 
hearty welcome to a guest works miracles with the fare, 
and is capable of turning the coarsest food to nectar and 
ambrosia.” 

^^A welcome you shall have,” cried Baucis, and like- 
wise a little honey that we happen to have left, and a 
bunch of purple grapes besides.” 

Why, Mother Baucis, it is a feast ! ” exclaimed Quick- 
silver, laughing, an absolute feast ! and you shall see how 
bravely I will play my part at it! I think I never felt 
hungrier in my life.” 

Mercy on us !” whispered Baucis to her husband. “ If 
the young man has such a terrible appetite, I am afraid 
there will not be half enough supper ! ” 

They all went into the cottage. 

And now, my little auditors, shall I tell you something 
that will make you open your eyes very wide ? It is really 
one of the oddest circumstances in the whole story. Quick- 
silver’s staff, you recollect, had set itself up against the wall 
of the cottage. Well, when its master entered the door, 
leaving this wonderful staff behind, what should it do but 
immediately spread its little wings, and go hopping and 


22 


THE CEANE CLASSICS 


fluttering up the doorsteps! Tap, tap, went the staff, on 
the kitchen floor 5 nor did it rest until it had stood itself 
on end, with the greatest gravity and decorum, beside 
Quicksilver^s chair. Old Philemon, however, as well as his 
wife, was so taken up in attending to their guests, that no 
notice was given to what the staff had been about. 

As Baucis had said, there was but a scanty supper for 
two hungry travelers. In the middle of the table was the 
remnant of a brown loaf, with a piece of cheese on one 
side of it, and a dish of honeycomb on the other. There 
was a pretty good bunch of grapes for each of the guests. 
A moderate-sized earthern pitcher, nearly full of milk, 
stood at the corner of the board, and when Baucis had 
filled two bowls and set them before the strangers only a 
little milk remained in the bottom of the pitcher. Alas 1 
it is a very sad business when a bountiful heart flnds itself 
pinched and squeezed among narrow circumstances.* Poor 
Baucis kept wishing that she might starve for a week to 
come, if it were possible by so doing to provide these 
hungry folks a more plentiful supper. 

And, since the supper was so exceedingly small, she 
could not help wishing that their appetites had not been 
quite so large. Why, at their very first sitting down, the 
travelers both drank ofl all the milk in their two bowls at 
a draught! 

^^A little more milk, kind Mother Baucis, if you please,” 
said Quicksilver. The day has been hot and I am very 
much athirst.” 

''ISTow, my dear people,” answered Baucis, in great con- 
fusion, I am so sorry and ashamed ! But the truth is, 
there is hardly a drop more milk in the pitcher. Oh, hus- 
band ! husband ! why didn’t we go without our supper ? ” 


THE MIEACULOUS PITCHER 23 

Why, it appears to me/’ cried Quicksilver, starting up 
from the table and taking the pitcher by the handle — it 
really appears to me that matters are not quite so bad as 
you represent them. Here is certainly more milk in the 
pitcher.” 

So saying, and to the vast astonishment of Baucis, he 
proceeded to fill not only his own bowl, but his companion’s 
likewise, from the pitcher that was supposed to be- almost 
empty. The good woman could scarcely believe her eyes. 

• She had certainly poured out nearly all the milk, and had 
peeped in afterward and seen the bottom of the pitcher as 
she set it down upon the table. 

But I am old,” thought Baucis to herself, and apt 
to be forgetful. I suppose I must have made a mistake. 
At all events, the pitcher cannot help being empty now, 
after filling the bowls twice over.” 

What excellent milk ! ” observed Quicksilver, after 
quaffing the contents of the second bowl. Excuse me, my 
kind hostess, but I must really ask you for a little more.” 

How Baucis had seen, as plainly as she could see any- 
thing, that Quicksilver had turned the pitcher upside down, 
and consequently had poured out every drop of milk, in 
filling the last bowl. Of course, there could not possibly be 
any left. However, in order to let him know precisely how 
the case was, she lifted the pitcher, and made a gesture as 
if pouring milk into Quicksilver’s bowl, but without the 
remotest idea that any milk would stream forth. 

What was her surprise, therefore, when such an abun- 
dant cascade fell bubbling into the bowl, that it was imme- 
diately filled to the brim, and overflowed upon the table ! 
The two snakes that were twisted about Quicksilver’s staff 


24 


^THE CRANE CLASSICS 


(but neither Baucis nor Philemon happened to observe 
this circumstance) stretched out their heads, and began to 
lap up the spilt milk. 

And then what a delicious fragrance the milk had ! It 
seemed as if Philemon’s only cow must have pastured, 
that day, on the richest herbage that could be found any- 
where in the world. I only wish that each of you, my be- 
loved little souls, could have a bowl of such nice milk, at 
supper-time ! 

^^And now a slice of your brown loaf. Mother Baucis,’’ 
said Quicksilver, and a little of that honey.” 

Baucis cut him a slice accordingly ; and though the loaf, 
when she and her husband ate of it, had been rather too dry 
and crusty to be palatable, it was now as light and moist 
as if but a few hours out of the oven. Tasting a crumb 
which had fallen on the table, she found it more delicious 
than bread ever was before, and could hardly believe that 
it was a loaf of her own kneading and baking. Yet what 
other loaf could it possibly be ? 

But oh, the honey ! I may just as well let it alone, with- 
out trying to describe how exquisitely it smelt and looked. 
Its color was that of the purest and most transparent gold, 
and it had the odor of a thousand flowers, but of such flow- 
ers as never grew in an earthly garden, and to seek which 
the bees must have flown high above the clouds. 

The wonder is that, after alighting oh a flower-bed of 
so delicious fragrance and immortal bloom, they should 
have been content to fly down again to their hive in Phile- 
mon’s garden. Never was such honey tasted, seen, or 
smelt. The perfume floated around the kitchen, and made 
it so delightful that, had you closed your eyes, you would 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


25 


instantly have forgotten the low ceiling and smoky walls, 
and have fancied yourself in an arbor with celestial honey- 
suckles creeping over it. 

Although good Mother Baucis was a simple old dame, 
she could not but think that there was something rather out 
of the common way in all that had been going on. So, 
after helping the guests to bread and honey and laying a 
bunch of grapes by each of their plates, she sat down 
by Philemon, and in a whisper told him what she had 
seen. 

Did you ever hear the like ? asked she. 

]^o, I never did,’’ answered Philemon, Avith a smile. 
^^And I rather think, my dear old wife, you have been 
walking about in a sort of dream. If I had poured out 
the milk, I should have seen through the business at once. 
There happened to be a little more in the pitcher than you 
thought — that is all.” 

^^Ah, husband,” said Baucis, say what you will, these 
are very uncommon people.” 

“Well, well,” replied Philemon, still smiling, “ perhaps 
they are. They certainly do look as if they had seen 
better days ; and I am heartily glad to see them making so 
comfortable a supper.” 

Each of the guests had now taken his bunch of grapes 
upon his plate. Baucis (who rubbed her eyes, in order to 
see the more clearly) was of opinion that the clusters had 
grown larger and richer, and that each separate grape 
seemed to be on the point of bursting with ripe juice. It 
was entirely a mystery to her how such grapes could ever 
have been produced from the old stunted vine that climbed 
against the cottage Avail. 


26 


THE CEAHE CLASSICS 


Very admirable grapes these ! ’’ observed Quicksilver, 
as he swallowed one after another, - without apparently 
diminishing his cluster. Pray, my good host, whence 
did you gather them ? ’’ 

^^From my own vine,’’ answered Philemon. ^^You may 
see one of its branches twisting across the window, yonder. 
But wife and I never thought the grapes very fine ones.” 

I never tasted better,” said the guest. ^^Another cup 
of this delicious Tnilk, if you please, and I shall then have 
supped better than a prince.” 

This time, old Philemon bestirred himself, and took up 
the pitcher, for he was curious to discover whether there 
Avas any reality in the marvels which Baucis had whispered 
to him. He knew that his good old wife was incapable of 
falsehood, and that she was seldom mistaken in what she 
supposed to be true ; but this was so very singular a case 
that he wanted to see into it with his own eyes. On tak- 
ing up the pitcher, therefore, he slyly peeped into it, and 
was fully satisfied that it contained not so much as a single 
drop. All at once, however, he beheld a little white foun- 
tain which gushed up from the bottom of the pitcher and 
speedily filled it to the brim with foaming and deliciously 
fragrant milk. It was lucky that -Philemon, in his sur- 
prise, did not drop the miraculous pitcher from his hand. 

^^lYio are ye, wonder-working strangers ?” cried he, even 
more bewildered than his wife had been. 

''Your guests, my good Philemon, and your friends,” 
replied the elder traveler, in his mild, deep voice that had 
something at once sweet and awe-inspiring in it. " Give 
me likewise a cup of the milk ; and may your pitcher never 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


27 


be empty for kind Baucis and yourself, any more than for 
the needy wayfarer.’’ 

- The supper being now over, the strangers requested to be 
shown to their place of repose. The old people would 
gladly have talked with them a little longer, and have ex- 
pressed the wonder which they felt, and their delight at 
finding the poor and meager supper prove so much better 
and more abundant than they hoped. But the elder trav- 
eler had inspired them with such reverence that they dared 
not ask him any questions. And when Philemon drew 
Quicksilver aside and inquired how under the sun a foun- 
tain of milk could have got into an old earthen pitcher, 
this latter personage pointed to his staff. 

There is the whole mystery of the affair,” quoth Quick- 
silver ; and if you can make it out. I’ll thank you to let 
me know. I can’t tell what to make of my staff. It is 
is always playing such odd tricks as this ; sometimes get- 
ting me a supper, and, quite as often, stealing it away. 
If I had any faith in such nonsense, I should say the 
stick was bewitched ! ” 

He said no more, but looked so slyly in their faces, that 
they rather fancied he was laughing at them. The magic 
staff went hopping at his heels, as Quicksilver quitted the 
room. When left alone, the good old couple spent some 
little time in conversation about the events of the evening, 
and then lay down on the floor, and fell fast asleep. They 
had given up their sleeping-room to the guests, and had 
no other bed for themselves, save these planks, which I 
wish had been as soft as their own hearts. 

The old man and his wife were stirring betimes, in the 
morning, and the strangers likewise arose with the sun. 


28 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


and made their preparations to depart. Philemon hos- 
pitably entreated them to remain a little longer, until 
Baucis could milk the cow, and bake a cake upon the 
hearth, and, perhaps, find them a few fresh eggs for break- 
fast. The guests, however, seemed to think it better to ac- 
complish a good part of their journey before the heat of the 
day should come on. They therefore persisted in setting 
out immediately, but asked Philemon and Baucis to walk 
forth with them a short distance, and show them the road 
which they were to take. 

So they all four issued from the cottage, chatting to- 
gether like old friends. It was very remarkable, indeed, 
how familiar the old couple insensibly grew with the elder 
traveler, and how their good and simple spirits melted into 
his, even as two drops of water would melt into the illimit- 
able ocean. And as for Quicksilver, with his keen, quick, 
laughing wits, he appeared to discover every little thought 
that but peeped into their minds before they suspected it 
themselves. They sometimes wished, it is true, that he 
had not been quite so quick-witted, and also that he would 
fiing away his staff, which looked so mysteriously mis- 
chievous with the snakes always writhing about it. But, 
then, again. Quicksilver showed himself so very good- 
humored that they would have been rejoiced to keep him 
in their cottage, staff, snakes, and all, every day and the 
whole day long. 

Ah, me! AAelladay!’’ exclaimed Philemon when they 
had walked a little way from their door. If our neigh- 
bors only knew what a blessed thing it is to shoAv hospitality 
to strangers, they would tie up all their dogs and never 
allow their children to fiing another stone.” 


THE MlEACtTLOITS PITCHER 


29 


It is a sin and a shame for them to behave so — that it 
is ! ” cried good old Baucis vehemently. ^^And I mean to 
go this very day and tell some of them what naughty people 
they are.^’ 

“ I fear/’ remarked Quicksilver, slyly smiling, that 
you will find none of them at home.” 

The elder traveler’s brow just then assumed such a 
grave, stern, and awful grandeur, yet serene withal, that 
neither Baucis nor Philemon dared to speak a word. They 
gazed reverently into his face, as if they had been gazing 
at the sky. 

When men do not feel toward the humblest stranger as 
if he were a brother,” said the traveler in tones so deep 
that they sounded like those of an organ, ^‘thej^ are un- 
worthy to exist on earth, which was created as the abode 
of a great human brotherhood.” 

^^And, by the by, my dear old people,” cried Quicksilver, 
with the liveliest look of fun and mischief in his eyes, 
where is this same village that you talk about ? On 
which side of us does it lie ? Methinks I do not see it 
hereabouts.” 

* Philemon and his wife turned toward the valley, where, 
at sunset, only the day before, they had seen the meadows, 
the houses, the gardens, the clumps of trees, the wide, green- 
margined street, with children playing in it, and all the 
tokens of business, enjoyment, and prosperity. But what 
was their astonishment ! There was no longer any appear- 
ance of a village ! Even the fertile vale, in the hollow of 
which it lay, had ceased to have existence. In its stead, 
they beheld the broad, blue surface of a lake, which filled 
the great basin of the valley from brim to brim, and re- 


30 


THE CRAHE CLASSICS 


fleeted the surrounding hills in its bosom with as tranquil 
an image as if it had been there ever since the creation of 
the world. For an instant, the lake remained perfectly 
smooth. Then, a little breeze sprang up, and caused the 
water to dance, glitter, and sparkle in the early sunbeams, 
and to dash, with a pleasant rippling murmur, against the 
hither shore. 

The lake seemed so strangely familiar, that the old 
couple were greatly perplexed, and felt as if they could 
only have been dreaming about the village having lain 
there. But, the next moment, they remembered the van- 
ished dwellings, and the faces and characters of the in- 
habitants, far too distinctly for a dream. The village had 
been there yesterday, and now was gone ! 

^‘Alas ! ’’ cried these kind-hearted old people, what has 
become of our poor neighbors?’’ 

They exist no longer as men and women,” said the 
elder traveler, in his grand and deep voice, while a roll of 
thunder seemed to echo it at a distance. There was 
neither use nor beauty in such a life as theirs, for they 
never softened or sweetened the hard lot of mortality by 
the exercise of kindly affections between man and man. 
They retained no image of the better life in their bosoms, 
therefore the lake that was of old has spread itself forth 
again to reflect the sky.” 

' ^^And as for the foolish people,” said Quicksilver with 
his mischievous smile, they are all transformed to fishes. 
They needed but little change, for they were already a 
scaly set of rascals, and the coldest-blooded beings in exist- 
ence. So, kind Mother Baucis, whenever you or your 


THE MIRACULOUS EITCHER 


31 


husband have an appetite for a dish of broiled trout, he 
can throw in a line and pull out half a dozen of your old 
neighbors.’’ 

^^Ah,” cried Baucis, shuddering, “I would not for the 
world put one of them on the gridiron ! ” 

No,” added Philemon, making a wry face, ^^we could 
never relish them.” 

^^As for you, good Philemon,” continued the elder trav- 
eler — and you, kind Baucis — you with your . scanty 
means have mingled so much heartfelt hospitality with 
your entertainment of the homeless stranger that the milk 
became an inexhaustible fount of nectar, and the brown 
loaf and the honey were ambrosia. Thus the divinities 
have feasted at your board off the same viands that supply 
their banquets on Olympus. You have done well, my dear 
old friends. YTierefore request whatever favor you, have 
most at heart, and it is granted.” 

Philemon and Baucis looked at one another, and then — 
I know not which of the two it was who spoke, but that 
one uttered the desire of both their hearts. 

Let us live together, while we live, and leave the world 
at the same instant, when we die ! For we have always 
loved one another ! ” 

Be it so ! ” replied the stranger, with majestic kindness. 
“ Now, look toward your cottage ! ” 

They did so. But what was their surprise on beholding 
a tall edifice of white marble, with a wide-open portal, occu- 
pying the spot where their humble residence had so lately 
stood ! 

There is your home,” said the stranger, beneficently 


32 


THE CEAHE CLASSICS 


smiling on them both. Exercise your hospitality in yon- 
der palace as freely as in the poor hovel to which you wel- 
comed us last evening.’’ 

The old folks fell on their knees to thank him ; but, be- 
hold ! neither he nor Quicksilver was there. 

So Philemon and Baucis took up their residence in the 
marble palace, and spent their time, with vast satisfaction 
to themselves, in making everybody jolly and comfortable 
who happened to pass that way. The milk-pitcher, I must 
not forget to say, retained its marvelous quality of being 
never empty, when it was desirable to have it full. When- 
ever an honest, good-humored, and free-hearted guest took 
a draught from this pitcher, he invariably found it the 
sweetest and most invigorating fluid that ever ran down 
his throat. But, if a cross and disagreeable curmudgeon 
happened to sip, he wes pretty certain to twist his visage 
into a hard knot, and pronounce it a pitcher of sour milk ! 

Thus the old couple lived in their palace a great, great 
while, and grew older and older, and very old indeed. At 
length, however, there came a summer morning when 
Philemon and Baucis failed to make their appearance, as 
on other mornings, with one hospitable smile overspreading 
both their pleasant faces, to invite the guests of over-night 
to breakfast. The guests searched everywhere, from top to 
bottom of the spacious palace, and all to no purpose. But 
after a great deal of perplexity, they espied in front of 
the portal two venerable trees which nobody could remem- 
ber to have seen there the day before. Yet there they 
stood, with their roots fastened deep into the soil and a 
huge breadth of foliage overshadowing the whole front of 


THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 


33 


the edifice. One was an oak and the other a linden tree. 
Their boughs — it was strange and beautiful to see — 
were intertwined together and embraced one another, so 
that each tree seemed to live in the other tree’s bosom 
much more than in its own. 

While the guests were marveling how these trees, that 
must have required at least a century to grow, could have 
come to be so tall and venerable in a single night, a breeze 
sprang up and set their intermingled boughs astir. And 
then there was a deep, broad murmur in the air, as if the 
two mysterious trees were speaking. 

I am old Philemon ! ” murmured the oak. 

I am old Baucis ! ” murmured the linden tree. 

But as the breeze grew stronger the trees both spoke at 
once — Philemon ! Baucis ! Baucis ! Philemon ! ” — as 
if one were both and both were one, and talking together 
in the depths of their mutual heart. It was plain enough 
to perceive that the good old couple had renewed their age, 
and were now to spend a quiet and delightful hundred 
years or so, Philemon as an oak and Baucis as a linden 
tree. And, oh, what a hospitable shade did they fiing 
around them! Whenever a wayfarer paused beneath it 
he heard a pleasant whisper of the leaves above his head, 
and wondered how the sound should so much resemble 
words like these: 

‘^ Welcome, welcome, dear traveler, welcome! ” 

And some kind soul, that knew what would have pleased 
old Baucis and old Philemon best, built a circular seat 
around both their trunks, where, for a great while after- 
ward, the weary, and the hungry, and the thirsty used to 


—3 


34 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


repose themselves, and quaff milk abundantly ont of the 
miraculous pitcher. 

And I wish, for all our sakes, that we had the pitcher 
here now! 


BIOaEAPHICAL STOEIES. 


CHAPTEE I. 

When Edward Temple was about eight or nine years 
old he was afflicted with a disorder of the eyes. It was so 
severe, and his sight was naturally so delicate, that the sur- 
geon felt some apprehensions lest the hoy should become to- 
tally blind. He therefore gave strict directions to keep him 
in a darkened chamber, with a bandage over his eyes. Hot 
a ray of the blessed light of heaven could be suffered to 
visit the poor lad. 

This was a sad thing for Edward. It was just the same 
as if there were to be no more sunshine, nor moonlight, nor 
glow of the cheerful fire, nor light of lamps. A night had 
begun which was to continue perhaps for months^ — a 
longer and drearier night than that which voyagers are 
compelled to endure when their ship is ice-bound, through- 
out the winter, in the Arctic Ocean. His dear father and 
mother, his brother George, and the sweet face of little 
Emily Robinson, must all vanish and leave him in utter 
darkness and solitude. Their voices and footsteps, it is 
true, would be heard around him ; he would feel his moth- 
er's embrace and the kind pressure of all their hands ; but 
still it would seem as if they were a thousand miles away. 

And then his studies, — they were to be entirely given 
up. This was another grievous trial ; for Edward’s mem- 
ory hardly went back to the period when he had not known 
how to read. Many and many a holiday had he spent at 

(35) 


36 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


his book, poring over its pages until the deepening twilight 
confused the print and made all the letters run into long 
words. Then would he press his hands across his eyes and 
wonder why they pained him so ; and when the candles 
were lighted, what was the reason that they burned so 
dimly, like the moon in a foggy night ? Poor little fellow ! 
So far as his eyes were concerned he was already an old 
man, and needed a pair of spectacles almost as much as 
his own grandfather did. 

And now, alas! the time was come, when even grand- 
father’s spectacles could not have assisted Edward to read. 
After a few bitter tears, which only pained his eyes the 
more, the poor boy submitted to the surgeon’s orders. His 
eyes were bandaged, and, with his mother on one side and 
his little friend Emily on the other, he was led into a dark- 
ened chamber. 

Mother, I shall be very miserable ! ” said Edward, sob- 
bing. 

“ Oh, no, my dear child ! ” replied his mother, cheer- 
fully. Your eyesight was a precious gift from Heaven, 
it is true ; but you would do wrong to be miserable for its 
loss, even if there were no hope of regaining it. There are 
other enjoyments besides what come to us through our eyes. 

Hone that are worth having,” said Edward. 

‘^Ah, but you will not think so long,” rejoined Mrs. 
Temple, with tenderness. ^^All of us — your father, and 
myself, and George, and our sweet Emily — will try to 
find occupation and amusement for you. We will use all 
our eyes to make you happy. Will they not be better than 
a single pair ? 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


37 


I will sit by you all day long/^ said Emily, in her low, 
sweet voice, putting her hand into that of Edward. 

^^And so will I, ^Ted,” said George, his elder brother, 
school time and all, if my father will permit me.’’ 
Edward’s brother George was three or four years older 
than himself, — a fine, hardy lad, of a bold and ardent 
temper. He was the leader of his comrades in all their en- 
terprises and amusements. As to his proficiency at study 
there was not much to be said. He had sense and ability 
enough to have made himself a scholar, but found so many 
pleasanter things to do that he seldom took hold of a book 
with his whole heart. So fond was George of boisterous 
sports and exercises that it was really a great token of af- 
fection and sympathy, when he offered to sit all day long in 
a dark chamber with his poor brother Edward. 

As for little Emily Kobinson, she was the daughter of 
one of Mr. Temple’s dearest friends. Ever since her 
mother went to heaven (which was soon after Emily’s 
birth) the little girl had dwelt in the household where we 
now find her. Mr. and Mrs. Temple seemed to love her 
as well as their oAvn children; for they had no daughter 
except Emily ; nor would the boys have known the blessing 
of a sister had not this gentle stranger come to teach them 
what it was. If I could show you Emily’s face, with her 
dark hair smoothed away from her forehead, you would 
be pleased with her look of simplicity and loving kindness, 
but might think that she was somewhat too grave for a 
child of seven years old. But you would not love her the 
less for that. 

So brother George and this loving little girl were to 
be Edward’s companions and playmates while he should be 


38 


THE CEANE CLASSICS 


kept prisoner in tke dark chamber. When the first bitter- 
ness of his grief was over, he began to feel that there might 
be some comforts and enjoyments in life even for a boy 
whose eyes were covered with a bandage. 

I thank you, dear mother,” said he, with only a few 
sobs ; and you, Emily ; and you, too, George. You will 
all be very kind to me, I know. And my father, — will not 
he come and see me every day?” 

Yes, my dear boy,” said Mr. Temple ; for, though in- 
visible to Edward, he was standing close beside him. “ I 
will spend some hours of every day with you. And as I 
have often amused you by relating stories and adventures 
while you had the use of your eyes, I can do the same now 
that you are unable to read. Will this please you, Ed- 
ward ? ” 

Oh, very much,” replied Edward. 

Well, then,” said his father, this evening we will be- 
gin the series of Biographical Stories which I promised 
you some time ago.” 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


39 


CHAPTEK II. 

WiiEH evening came, Mr. Temple found Edward con- 
siderably revived in spirits, and disposed to be resigned to 
his misfortune. Indeed, the figure of the boy, as it was 
dimly seen by the firelight, reclining in a ^veil-stuffed 
easy-chair, looked so very comfortable that many people 
might have envied him. When a man’s eyes have grown 
old with gazing at the ways of the world, it does not seem 
such a terrible misfortune to have them bandaged. 

Little Emily Pobinson sat by Edward’s side with the air 
of an accomplished nurse. As well as the duskiness of the' 
chamber would permit, she watched all his motions and 
each varying expression of his face, and tried to anticipate 
her patient’s wishes before his tongue could utter them. 
Yet it was noticeable that the child manifested an inde- 
scribable awe and disquietude whenever she fixed her eyes 
on the bandage; for, to her simple and affectionate heart, 
it seemed as if her dear friend Edward was separated from 
her, because she could not see his eyes. A friend’s eyes tell 
us many things which never could be spoken by the tongue. 

George, likewise, looked awkward and confused, as stout 
and healthy boys are accustomed to do in the society of 
the sick or afilicted. Pever having felt pain or sorrow, they 
are abashed, from not knowing how to sympathize with the 
sufferings of others. 

^^Well, my dear Edward,” inquired Mrs. Temple, ^^is 
your chair quite comfortable ? and has your little nurse 
provided for all your wants ? If so, your father is ready 
to begin his stories.” 


40 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


Oh, I am very well now,’’ answered Edward, with a 
faint smile. ^^And my ears have not forsaken me, though 
my eyes are good for nothing. So pray, dear father, begin.” 

It was Mr. Temple’s design to tell the children a series 
of true stories, the incidents of which should be taken from 
the childhood and early life of eminent people. Thus he 
hoped to bring George, and Edward, and Emily into closer 
acquaintance with the famous persons who have lived in 
other times by showing that they also had been children 
once. Although Mr. Temple was scrupulous to relate noth- 
ing but what was founded on fact, yet he felt himself at 
liberty to clothe the incidents of his narrative in a new 
coloring, so that his auditors might understand them the 
better. 

“ My first story,” said he, shall be about a painter of 
pictures.” 

Dear me ! ” cried Edward, with a sigh. I am afraid 
I shall never look at pictures any more.” 

^AVe will hope for the best,” answered his father. In 
the mean time, you must try to see things within your own 
mind.” 

Mr. Temple then began the following story : 

BENJAMIN WEST. 

[born 1738 . DIED 1820 .] 

In the year 1738 there came into the world, in the town 
of Springfield, Pennsylvania, a Quaker infant, from whom 
his parents and neighbors looked for wonderful things. A 
famous preacher of the Society of Friends had prophesied 
about little Ben, and foretold that he would be one of the 
most remarkable characters that had appeared on the earth, 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


41 


since the days of William Penn. On this account, the eyes 
of many people were fixed upon the boy. Some of his an- 
cestors had won great renown in the old wars of England 
and France; hut it was probably expected that Ben would 
become a preacher, and would convert multitudes to the 
peaceful doctrines of the Quakers. Eriend West and his 
wife were thought to be very fortunate in having such a 
son. 

Little Ben lived to the ripe age of six years without do- 
ing anything that was worthy to be told in history. But 
one summer afternoon, in his seventh year, his mother put 
a fan into his hand and bade him keep the flies away from 
the face of a little babe who lay fast asleep in the cradle. 
She then left the room. 

The boy waved the fan to and fro, and drove away the 
buzzing flies whenever they had the impertinence to come 
near the baby’s face. When they had all flown out of the 
window or into distant parts of the room, he bent over the 
cradle and delighted himself with gazing at the sleeping 
infant. It was, indeed, a very pretty sight. The little per- 
sonage in the cradle slumbered peacefully, with its waxen 
hands under its chin, looking as full of blissful quiet as 
if angels were singing lullabies in its ear. Indeed, it must 
have been dreaming about heaven ; for, while Ben stooped 
over the cradle, the little baby smiled. 

How beautiful she looks ! ” said Ben to himself. 

What a pity it is that such a pretty smile should not last 
forever ! ” 

How Ben, at this period of his life, had never heard of 
that wonderful art by which a look, that appears and van- 
ishes in a moment, may be made to last for hundreds of 


42 


THE CEAHE CLASSICS 


years. But, though nobody had told him of such an art, 
he may be said to have invented it for himself. On a table 
near at hand there were pens and paper, and ink of two 
colors, black and red. The boy seized a pen and sheet of 
paper, and, kneeling down beside the cradle, began to draw 
a likeness of the infant. While he was busied in this man- 
ner he heard his mother’s step approaching, and hastily 
tried to conceal the paper. 

Benjamin, my son, what hast thou been doing?” in- 
quired his mother, observing marks of confusion in his face. 

At first Ben was unwilling to tell ; for he felt as if there 
might be something wrong in stealing the baby’s face and 
putting it upon a sheet of paper. However, as his mother 
insisted, he finally put the sketch into her hand, and then 
hung his head, expecting to be well scolded. But when the 
good lady saw what was on the paper, in lines of red and 
black ink, she uttered a scream of surprise and joy. 

Bless me ! ” she cried. It is a picture of little 
Sally!” 

And then she threw her arms around our friend Ben- 
jamin, and kissed him so tenderly that he never afterwards 
was afraid to show his performances to his mother. 

As Ben grew older, he was observed to take vast delight 
in looking at the hues and forms of nature. For instance, 
he was greatly pleased with the blue violets of spring, the 
wild roses of summer, and the scarlet cardinal-flowers of 
early autumn. In the decline of the year, when the woods 
were variegated with all the colors of the rainbow, Ben 
seemed to desire nothing better than to gaze at them from 
morn till night. The purple and golden clouds of sunset 
were a joy to him. And he was continually endeavoring to 


BIOGEAPHICAL STOEIES 


43 


draw the figures of trees, men, mountains, houses, cattle, 
geese, ducks, and turkeys, with a piece of chalk, on barn 
doors or on the floor. 

In these old times the Mowhawk Indians were still nu- 
merous in Pennsylvania. Every year a party of them used 
to pay a visit to Springfield, because the wigwams of their 
ancestors had formerly stood there. These wild men grew 
fond of little Ben, and made him very happy by giving 
him some of the red and yellow paint with which they were 
accustomed to adorn their faces. His mother, too, pre- 
sented him with a piece of indigo. Thus he had now three 
colors, — red, blue, and yellow, — and could manufacture 
green by mixing the yellow with the blue. Our friend Ben 
was overjoyed, and doubtless showed his gratitude to the 
Indians by taking their likenesses in the strange dresses 
which they wore, with feathers, tomahawks, and bows and 
arrows. 

But all this time the young artist had no paint-brushes ; 
nor were there any to be bought, unless he had sent to Phila- 
delphia on purpose. However, he was a very ingenious 
boy, and resolved to manufacture paint-brushes for himself. 
With this design he laid hold upon — what do you think ? 
Why, upon a respectable old black cat, who was sleeping 
quietly by the fireside. 

Puss,” said little Ben to the cat, pray give me some 
of the fur from the tip of thy tail ? ” 

Though he addressed the black cat so civilly, yet Ben 
was determined to have the fur whether she were willing 
or not. Puss, who had no great zeal for the fine arts, would 
have resisted if she could ; but the boy was armed with his 
mother’s scissors, and very dexterously clipped off fur 


44 


THE CEAHE CLASSICS 


enough to make a paint-brush. This was of so much use 
to him that he applied to Madam Puss again and again, 
until her warm coat of fur had become so thin and ragged 
that she could hardly keep comfortable through the winter. 
Poor thing ! she was forced to creep close into the chimney- 
corner, and eyed Ben with a very rueful physiognomy. 
But Ben considered it more necessary that he should have 
paint-brushes than that puss should be warm. 

About this period friend West received a visit from Mr. 
Pennington, a merchant of Philadelphia, who was likewise 
a member of the Society of Friends. The visitor, on enter- 
ing the parlor, was surprised to see it ornamented with 
drawings of Indian chiefs, and of birds with beautiful 
plumage, and of the wild flowers of the forest. F'othing of 
the kind was ever seen before in the habitation of a Quaker 
farmer. 

Why, Friend West,’’ exclaimed the Philadelphia mer- 
chant, what has possessed thee to cover thy walls with all 
these pictures ? Where on earth didst thou get them ? ” 
Then Friend West explained that all these pictures were 
painted by little Ben, with no better materials than red 
and yellow ochre and a piece of indigo, and with brushes 
made of the black cat’s fur. 

Verily,” said Mr. Pennington, the boy hath a won- 
derful faculty. Some of our friends might look upon these 
matters as vanity ; but little Benjamin appears to have been 
born a painter ; and Providence is wiser than we are.” 

The good merchant patted Benjamin on the head, and 
evidently considered him a wonderful boy. When his par- 
ents saw how much their son’s performances were admired, 
they no doubt remembered the prophecy of the old Quaker 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


45 


preacher respecting Ben’s future eminence. Yet they could 
not understand how he was ever to become a very great 
and useful man merely by making pictures. 

One evening, shortly after Mr. Pennington’s return to 
Philadelphia, a package arrived at Springfield, directed to 
our little friend Ben. 

What can it possibly be ? ” thought Ben, when it was 
put into his hands. Who can have sent me such a great 
square package as this ? ” 

On taking off the thick brown paper which enveloped it, 
behold ! there was a paint-box, with a great many cakes 
of paint, and brushes of various sizes. It was the gift of 
good Mr. Pennington. There were likewise several squares 
of canvas such as artists use for painting pictures upon, 
and, in addition to all these treasures, some beautiful en- 
gravings of landscapes. These were the first pictures that 
Ben had ever seen except those of his own drawing. 

Wiat a joyful evening was this for the little artist ! At 
bedtime he put the paint-box under his pillow, and got 
hardly a wink of sleep ; for, all night long, his fancy was 
painting pictures in the darkness. In the morning he hur- 
ried to the garret, and was seen no more till the dinner- 
hour; nor did he give himself time to eat more than a 
mouthful or two of food before he hurried back to the gar- 
ret again. The next day, and the next, he was just as busy 
as ever ; until at last his mother thought it time to ascertain 
what he was about. She accordingly followed him to the 
garret. 

On opening the door, the first object that presented itself 
to her eyes was our friend Benjamin, giving the last touches 
to a beautiful picture. He had copied portions of two of 


46 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


the engravings, and made one picture out of both, with 
such admirable skill that it was far more beautiful than 
the originals. The grass, the trees, the water, the skj, and 
the houses were all painted in their proper colors. There, 
too, were the sunshine and the shadow, looking as natural 
as life. 

My dear child, thou hast done wonders ! cried his 
mother. 

The good lady was in an ecstasy of delight. And well 
might she be proud of her boy; for there were touches in 
this picture which old artists, who had spent a lifetime in 
the business, need not have been ashamed of. Many a 
year afterwards, this wonderful production was exhibited 
at the Royal Academy in London. 

When Benjamin was quite a large lad he- was sent to 
school at Philadelphia. !N’ot long after his arrival he had 
a slight attack of fever, which confined him to his bed. 
The light, which would otherwise have disturbed him, was 
excluded from his chamber by means of closed wooden shut- 
ters. At first it appeared so totally dark that Ben could 
not distinguish any object in the room. By degrees, how- 
ever, his eyes became accustomed to the scanty light. 

He was lying on his back, looking up towards the ceil- 
ing, when suddenly he beheld the dim apparition of a 
white cow moving slowly over his head ! Ben started, and 
rubbed his eyes in the greatest amazement. 

What can this mean ? ’’ thought he. 

The white cow disappeared ; and next came several pigs, 
which trotted along the ceiling and vanished into the dark- 
ness of the chamber. So lifelike did these grunters look 
that Ben almost seemed to hear them squeak. 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


47 


Well, this is very strange ! ” said Ben to himself. 
When the people of the house came to see him, Benjamin 
told them of the marvelous circumstance which had oc- 
curred. But they would not believe him. 

Benjamin, thou art surely out of thy senses!’’ cried 
they. How is it possible that a white cow and a litter of 
pigs should be visible on the ceiling of a dark chamber ? ” 
Ben, however, had great confidence in his own eye-sight, 
and was determined to search the mystery to the bottom. 
For this purpose, when he was again left alone, he got out 
of bed and examined the window-shutters. He soon per- 
ceived a small chink in one of them, through which a ray 
of light found its passage and rested upon the ceiling. 
How, the science of optics will inform us that the pictures 
of the white cow and the pigs, and of other objects out of 
doors, came into the dark chamber through this narrow 
chink, and were painted over Benjamin’s head. It is 
greatly to his credit that he discovered the scientific prin- 
ciple of this phenomenon, and, by means of it, constructed 
a camera-obscura, or magic-lantern, out of a hollow box. 
This was of great advantage to him in drawing landscapes. 

Well, time went on, and Benjamin continued to draw and 
paint pictures until he had now reached the age when it was 
proper that he should choose a business for life. His father 
and mother were in considerable perplexity about him. 
According to the ideas of the Quakers, it is not right for 
people to spend their lives in occupations that are no real 
and sensible advantage to the world. How, what advan- 
tage could the world expect from Benjamin’s pictures? 
This was a difficult question; and, in order to set their 
minds at rest, his parents determined to consult the preach- 


48 


THE CRAHE CLASSICS 


ers and wise men of their society. Accordingly, they all 
assembled in the meeting-honse, and discussed the matter 
from beginning to end. 

Finally they came to a very wise decision. It seemed 
so evident that Providence had created Benjamin to be a 
painter, and had given him abilities which would be thrown 
away in any other business, that the Quakers resolved not 
to oppose his inclination. They even acknowledged that 
the sight of a beautiful picture might convey instruction to 
the mind, and might benefit the heart as much as a good 
book or a wise discourse. They therefore committed the 
youth to the direction of God, being well assured that he 
best knew what was his proper sphere of usefulness. The 
old men laid their hands upon Benjamin’s head and gave 
him their blessing, and the women kissed him affection- 
ately. All consented that he should go forth into the world 
and learn to be a painter by studying the best pictures of 
ancient and modern times. 

So our friend Benjamin left the dwelling of his par- 
ents, and his native woods and streams, and the good Qua- 
kers of Springfield, and the Indians who had given him his 
first colors ; he left all the places and persons whom he had 
hitherto known, and returned to them no more. He went 
first to Philadelphia, and afterwards to Europe. Here 
he, was noticed by many great people, but retained all the 
sobriety and simplicity which he had learned among the 
Quakers. It is related of him that when he was presented 
at the court of the Prince of Parma, he kept his hat upon 
his head even while kissing the Prince’s hand. 

When he was twenty-five years old he went to London, 
and established himself there as an artist. In due course 


biogeaphical stoeies 


49 


of time he acquired great fame by his pictures, and was 
made chief painter to King George III. and president of 
the Royal Academy of Arts. When the Quakers of Penn- 
sylvania heard of his success, they felt that the prophecy of 
the old preacher as to little Ben’s future eminence was now 
accomplished. It is true, they shook their heads at his pic- 
tures of battle and bloodshed, such as the death of Wolfe, 
thinking that these terrible scenes should not be held up to 
the admiration of the v/orld. 

But they approved of the great paintings in which he 
represented the miracles and sufferings of the Redeemer 
of mankind. King George employed him to adorn a large 
and beautiful chapel at Windsor Castle with pictures of 
these sacred subjects. He likewise painted a magnifi- 
cent picture of Christ Healing the Sick, which he gave to 
the hospital at Philadelphia. It was exhibited to the pub- 
lic, and produced so much profit that the hospital was en- 
larged so as to accommodate thirty more patients. If 
Benjamin West had done no other good deed than this, yet 
it would have been enough to entitle him to an honorable 
remembrance forever. At this very day there are thirty 
poor people in the hospital who owe all their comforts to 
that same picture. 

We shall mention only a single incident more. The pic- 
ture of Christ Healing the Sick was exhibited at tlie Royal 
Academy in London, where it covered a vast space, and dis- 
played a multitude of figures as large as life. On the 
wall, close beside this admirable picture, hung a small and 
faded landscape. It was the same that little Ben had 
painted in his father’s garret, after receiving the paint- 
box and engravings from good Mr. P ennington. 

—4 


50 


THE CRAHE CLASSICS 


TTe lived many years in peace and honor, and died in 
1820, at the age of eighty-two. The story of his life is 
almost as wonderful as a fairy tale; for there are few 
stranger transformations than that of a little unknown 
Quaker boy, in the wilds of America, into the most dis- 
tinguished English painter of his day. Let us each make 
the best use of our natural abilities as Benjamin West did, 
and, with the blessing of Providence, we shall arrive at 
some good end. As for fame, it is but little matter whether 
we acquire it or not. 

Thank you for the story, my dear father,” said Ed- 
ward, when it was finished. Do you know that it seems 
as if I could see things without the help of my eyes? 
AVliile you were speaking I have seen little Ben, and the 
baby in its cradle, and the Indians, and the white cow, 
and the pigs, and kind Mr. Pennington, and all the good 
old Quakers, almost as plainly as if they were in this very 
room.” 

“It is because your attention was not disturbed by 
outward objects,” replied Mr. Temple. “People, when 
deprived of sight, often have more vivid ideas than those 
who possess the perfect use of their eyes. I will venture 
to say*that George has not attended to the story quite so 
•closely.” 

“ISTo, indeed,” said George; “but it was a very pretty 
story for all that. How I should have laughed to see Ben 
making a paint-brush out of the black cat’s tail ! I intend 
to try the experiment with Emily’s kitten.” 

“ Oh, no, no, George ! ” cried Emily, earnestly. “ My 
kitten cannot spare her tail.” 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


51 


Edward being an invalid, it was now time for him to 
retire to bed. When the family bade him good night he 
turned his face towards them, looking very loath to part. 

I shall not know when morning comes,’’ said he, sor- 
rowfully. ‘^And, besides, I want to hear your voices all 
the time; for, when nobody is speaking, it seems as if I 
were alone in a dark world.” 

‘^You must have faith, my dear child,” replied his 
mother. Faith is the soul’s eyesight; and when we 
possess it the world is never dark nor lonely.” 


52 


THE CEANE CLASSICS 


CHAPTEK III. 

The next day Edward began to get accustomed to his 
new condition of life. Once, indeed, when his parents 
were out of the way and only Emily was left to take care 
of him, he could not resist the temptation to thrust aside 
the bandage and peep at the anxious face of his little 
nurse. But, in spite of the dimness of the chamber, the 
experiment caused him so much pain that he felt no incli- 
nation to take another look. So, with a deep sigh, he re- 
signed himself to his fate. 

Emily, pray talk to me said he, somewhat impa- 
tiently. 

How, Emily was a remarkably silent little girl, and did 
not possess that liveliness of disposition which renders 
some children such excellent com^panions. She seldom 
laughed, and had not the faculty of making many words 
about small matters. But the love and earnestness of her 
heart taught her how to amuse poor Edward in his dark- 
ness. She put her knitting-work into his hands. 

^^You must learn how to knit,’’ said she. 

What ! without using my eyes ? ” cried Edward. 

“ I can knit with my eyes shut,” replied Emily. 

Then with her own little hands she guided Edward’s 
fingers while he set about his new occupation. So awkward 
were his first attempts that any other little girl would have 
laughed heartily. But Emily preserved her gravity, and 
showed the utmost patience in taking up the innumerable 
stitches which he let down. In the course of an hour or 
two, his progress was quite encouraging. 


BIOGEAPHICAL STORIES 


53 


When evening came, Edward acknowledged that the day 
had been far less wearisome than he anticipated. But he 
was glad, nevertheless, when his father and mother, and 
George and Emily, all took their seats around his chair. 
He put out his hand to grasp each of their hands, and 
smiled with a very bright expression upon his lips. 

How I can see you all with my mind’s eye,” said he. 
^^And now, father, pray tell us another story.” 

So Mr. Temple began. 

SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 

[bokn 1642 . DIED 1727 .] 

On Christmas day, in the year 1642, Isaac Hewton was 
born, ' at the small village of Woolsthorpe, in England. 
Little did his mother think, when she beheld her new-born 
babe, that he was destined to explain many matters which 
had been a mystery ever since the creation of the world. 

Isaac’s father being dead, Mrs. Hewton was married 
again to a clergyman, and went to reside at Horth Witham. 
Her son was left to the care of his good old grandmother, 
who was very kind to him and sent him to school. In his 
early years Isaac did not appear to be a very bright scholar, 
but was chiefly remarkable for his ingenuity in all me- 
chanical occupations. He had a set of little tools and saws 
of various sizes manufactured by himself. With the aid 
of these Isaac contrived to make many curious articles, at 
which he worked with so much skill that he seemed to 
have been born with a saw or chisel in hand. 

The neighbors looked with vast admiration at the things 
which Isaac manufactured. And his old grandmother, 
I suppose, was never weary of talking about him. 


54 


THE CKAHE CLASSICS 


He’ll make a capital workman one of these days,” 
she would probably say. “Ho fear but what Isaac will do 
well in the world and be a rich man before be dies.” 

It is amusing to conjecture what were the anticipations 
of bis grandmother and the neighbors about Isaac’s future 
life. Some of them, perhaps, fancied that he would make 
beautiful furniture of mahogany, rosewood, or polished 
oak, inlaid with ivory and ebony, and magnificently gilded. 
And then, doubtless, all the rich people would purchase 
these fine things to adorn their drawing-rooms. Others 
probably thought that little Isaac was destined to be an 
architect, and would build splendid mansions for the no- 
bility and gentry, and churches too, with the tallest steeples 
that had ever been seen in England. 

Some of his friends, no doubt, advised Isaac’s grand- 
mother to apprentice him to a clock-maker; for, besides 
his mechanical skill, the boy seemed to have a taste for 
mathematics, which would be very useful to him in that 
profession. And then, in due time, Isaac would set up 
for himself, and would manufacture curious clocks, like 
those that contain sets of dancing figures, which issue from 
the dial-plate when the hour is struck ; or like those where 
a ship sails across the face of the clock, and is seen tossing 
up and down on the waves as often as the pendulum 
vibrates. 

Indeed, there was some ground for supposing that Isaac 
would devote himself to the manufacture of clocks; since 
he had already made one of a kind which nobody had ever 
heard of before. It was set a-going, not by wheels and 
weights like other clocks, but by the dropping of water. 
This was an object of great wonderment to all the people 


BIOGEAPHICAL STOEIES 


55 


round about; and it must be confessed that there are few 
boys, or men either, who could contrive to tell what o’clock 
it is by means of a bowl of water. 

Besides the water-clock, Isaac made a sundial. Tlius 
his grandmother was never at a loss to know the hour ; for 
the water-clock would tell it in the shade, and the dial in 
the sunshine. The sundial is said to be still in existence 
at Woolsthorpe, on the corner of the house where Isaac 
dwelt. If so, it must have marked the passage of every 
sunny hour that has elapsed since Isaac Hewton was a boy. 
It marked all the famous moments of his life ; it marked 
the hour of his death ; and still the sunshine creeps slowly 
over it, as regularly as when Isaac first set it up. 

Yet we must not say that the sundial has lasted longer 
than its maker; for Isaac Hewton will exist long after the 
dial — yea, and long after the sun itself — shall have 
crumbled to decay. 

Isaac possessed a wonderful faculty of acquiring knowl- 
edge by the simplest means. For instance, what method 
do you suppose he took to find out the strength of the wind ? 
You will never guess how the boy could compel that un- 
seen, inconstant, and ungovernable wonder, the wind, to tell 
him the measure of its strength. Yet nothing can be more 
simple. He jumped against the wind. And by the length 
of his jump he could calculate the force of a gentle breeze, 
a brisk gale, or a tempest. Thus, even in his boyish sports, 
he was continually searching out the secrets of philosophy. 

Hot far from his grandmother’s residence there was a 
windmill which operated on a new plan. Isaac was in the 
habit of going thither frequently, and would spend whole 
hours in examining its various parts. While the mill was 


56 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


at rest he pried into its internal machinery. When its 
broad sails were set in motion by the wind, he watched 
the process by which the millstones were made to revolve 
and crush the grain that was put into the hopper. After 
gaining a thorough knowledge of its construction he was 
observed to be unusually busy with his tools. 

It was not long before his grandmother and all the 
neighborhood knew what Isaac had been about. He had 
. constructed a model of the windmill, though not so large, 
I suppose, as one of the box-traps which boys set to catch 
squirrels, yet every part of the mill and its machinery was 
complete. Its little sails were neatly made of linen, and 
Avhirled round very swiftly v/hen the mill was placed iu 
a draught of air. Even a pulf of wind from Isaac’s mouth 
or from a pair of bellows was sufficient to set the sails in 
motion. And, what was most curious, if a handful of 
grains of wheat were put into the little hopper, they would 
soon be converted into snow-white flour. 

Isaac’s pla^miates were enchanted with his new Avind- 
mill. They thought that nothing so pretty and so Avonder- 
fiil had eA^er been seen in the AAdiole AA^orld. 

^^But, Isaac,” said one of them, ^^you haA’^e forgotten 
one thing that belongs to a mill.” 

^AVhat is that?” asked Isaac; for he supposed that, 
from the roof of the mill to its foundation, he had for- 
gotten nothing. 

^^Why, Avhere is the miller?” said his friend. 

“That is true, — I must look out for one,” said Isaac.; 
and he set himself to consider how the deficiency should 
be supplied. 

He might easily have made the miniature figure of a 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


57 


man ; but then it would hot have been able to move about 
and perform the duties of a miller. As Captain Lemuel 
Gulliver had not yet discovered the island of Lilliput, 
Isaac did not know that there were little men in the world 
whose size was just suited to his windmill. It so hap- 
pened, however, that a mouse had just been caught in the 
trap ; and, as no other miller could be found, Mr. Mouse 
was appointed to that important office. The new miller 
made a very respectable appearance in his dark-gray coat. 
To be sure, he had not a very good character for honesty, 
and was suspected of sometimes stealing a portion of the 
grain which was given him to grind. But perhaps some 
two-legged millers are quite as dishonesi as this small 
quadruped. 

As Isaac grew older, it was found that he had far more 
important matters in his mind than the manufacture of 
toys like -the little windmill. All day long, if left to him- 
self, he was either absorbed in thought or engaged in some 
book of mathematics or natural philosophy. At night, I 
think it probable, he looked up with reverential curiosity 
to the stars, and wondered whether they were worlds like 
our own, and how great was their distance from the earth, 
and what was the power that kept them in their courses. 
Perhaps, even so early in life, Isaac Hewton felt a pre- 
sentiment that he should be able, hereafter, to answer all 
these questions. 

When Isaac was fourteen years old, his mother’s second 
husband being now dead, she wished her son to leave school 
and assist her in managing the farm at Woolsthorpe. Por 
a year or two, therefore, he tried to turn his attention to 
farming. But his mind was so bent on becoming a scholar 


58 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


that his mother sent him back to school^ and afterwards to 
the University of Cambridge. 

I have now finished my anecdotes of Isaac Uewton’s 
boyhood. My story would be far too long were I to men- 
tion all the splendid discoveries which he made after he 
came to be a man. He was the first that found out the 
nature of light ; for, before his day, nobody could tell what 
the sunshine was composed of. You remember, I suppose, 
the story of an apple’s falling on his head, and thus lead- 
ing him to discover the force of gravitation, which keeps 
the heavenly bodies in their courses. When he had once got 
hold of this idea, he never permitted his mind to rest until 
he had searched out all the laws by which the planets are 
guided through the sky. This he did as thoroughly as if 
he had gone up among the stars and tracked them in their 
orbits. The hoy had found out the mechanism of a wind- 
mill ; the man explained to his fellow-men the mechanism 
of the universe. 

While making these researches he was accustomed to 
spend night after night in a lofty tower, gazing at the 
heavenly bodies through a telescope. His mind was lifted 
far above the things of this world. He may be said, in- 
deed, to have spent the greater part of his life in worlds 
that lie thousands and millions of miles away; for where 
the thoughts and the heart are, there is our true existence. 

Did you never hear the story of Hewton and his little 
dog Diamond ? One day, when he was fifty years old, and 
had been hard at work more than twenty years studying 
the theory of light, he went out of his chamber, leaving 
his little dog asleep before the fire. On the table lay a 
heap of manuscript papers, containing all the discoveries 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


59 


which IN'ewton had made during those twenty years. 
^Vhen his master was gone, up rose little Diamond, jumped 
upon the table, and overthrew the lighted candle. The 
papers immediately caught fire. 

Just as the destruction was completed TTewton opened 
the chamber door, and perceived that the labors of twenty 
years were reduced to a heap of ashes. There stood little 
Diamond, the author of all the mischief. Almost any other 
man would have sentenced the dog to immediate death. 
But l^ewton patted him on the head with his usual kind- 
ness, although grief was at his he^art. 

0 Diamond, Diamond,’’ exclaimed he, thou little 
knowest the mischief thou hast done ! ” 

This incident affected his health and spirits for some 
time afterwards ; but, from his conduct towards the little 
dog, you may judge what was the sweetness of his temper. 

]N’ewton lived to be a very old man, and acquired great 
renown, and was made a member of Parliament, and re- 
ceived the honor of knighthood from the king. But he 
cared little for earthly fame and honors, and felt no pride 
in the vastness of his knowledge. All that he had learned 
only made him feel how little he knew in comparison to 
what remained to be known. 

1 seem to myself like a child,” observed he, playing 
on the seashore, and picking up here and there a curious 
shell or a pretty pebble, while the boundless ocean of Truth 
lies undiscovered before me.” 

At last, in 1Y2Y, when he was fourscore and five years 
old. Sir Isaac Hewton died, — or rather he ceased to live 
on earth. We may be permitted to believe that he is still 
searching out the infinite wisdom and goodness of the 


60 


THE CEAHE CLASSIC^ 


Creator as earnestly, and with even more success, than 
while his spirit animated a mortal body. He has left a 
fame behind him which will be as endurable as if his name 
were written in letters of light formed by the stars upon 
the midnight sky. 

I love to hear about mechanical contrivances, such as 
the water-clock and the little windmill/’ remarked George. 

I suppose, if Sir Isaac Hewton had only thought of it, 
he might have found out the steam-engine, and railroads, 
‘and all the other famous inventions that have come into use 
since his day.” 

Very possibly he might,” replied Mr. Temple ; and 
no doubt a great many people would think it more useful 
to manufacture steam-engines than to search out the sys- 
tem of the universe. Other great astronomers besides 
Newton have been endowed with mechanical genius. 
There was David Rittenhouse, an American, — he made a 
perfect little water-mill when he was only seven or eight 
years old. But this sort of ingenuity is but a mere trifle 
in comparison with the other talents of such men.” 

It must have been beautiful,” said Edward, to spend 
whole nights in a high tower as Newton did, gazing at the 
stars, and the comets, and the meteors. But what would 
Newton have done had he been blind ? or if his eyes had 
been no better than mine ? ” 

^^Why, even then, my dear child,” observed Mrs. Tem- 
ple, he would have found out some way of enlightening 
his mind and of elevating his soul. But come ; little Em- 
ily is waiting to bid you good-night. You must go to sleep 
and dream of seeing all our faces.” 

But how sad it will be when I awake ! ” murmured 
Edward, 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


61 


CHAPTEE IV. 

Ih the course of the next day the harmony of our little 
family was disturbed by something like a quarrel between 
George and Edward. 

The former, though he loved his brother dearly, had 
found it quite too great a sacrifice of his own enjoyments 
to spend all his play-time in a darkened chamber. Ed- 
ward, on the other hand, was inclined to be despotic. He 
felt as if his bandaged eyes entitled him to demand that 
everybody who enjoyed the blessing of sight should con- 
tribute to his comfort and amusement. He therefore in- 
sisted that George, instead of going out to play football, 
should join with himself and Emily in a game of ques- 
tions and answers. 

George resolutely refused, and ran out of the house. He 
did not revisit Edward’s chamber till the evening, when 
he stole in, looking confused, yet somewhat sullen, and sat 
down beside his father’s chair. It was evident by a mo- 
tion of Edward’s head and a slight trembling of his lips, 
that he was aware of George’s entrance, though his foot- 
steps had been almost inaudible. Emily, with her serious 
and earnest little face, looked from one to the other, as if 
she longed to be a messenger of peace between them. 

Mr. Temple, without seeming to notice any of these cir- 
cumstances, began a story. 

SAMUEL JOHNSON. 

[bokn 1709 . DIED 1784 .] 

Sam,” said Mr. Michael Johnson, of Lichfield, one 
morning, I am very feeble and ailing to-day. You must 


62 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


go to Uttoxeter in my stead, and tend the book-stall in the 
market-place there/’ 

This was spoken above a hundred years ago by an elderly 
man, who had once been a thriving bookseller at Lichfield, 
in England. Being now in reduced circumstances, he was 
forced to go every market-day and sell books at a stall, in 
the neighboring village of Uttoxeter. 

His son, to whom Mr. Johnson spoke, was a great boy, 
of very singTilar aspect. He had an intelligent face ; but 
it was seamed and distorted by a scrofulous humor, which 
affected his eyes so badly that sometimes he was almost 
blind. Owing to the same cause his head would often 
shake with a tremulous motion as if he were afflicted with 
the palsy. When Sam was an infant, the famous Queen 
Anne had tried to cure him of this disease by laying her 
royal hands upon his head. But though the touch of the 
king or queen was supposed to be a certain remedy for 
scrofula, it produced no good effect upon Sam Johnson. 

At the time which we speak of the poor lad was not 
very well dressed, and wore shoes from which his toes 
peeped out ; for his old father had barely the means of sup- 
porting his wife and children. But, poor as the family 
were, young Sam Johnson had as much pride as any noble- 
man’s son in England. The fact was, he felt conscious of 
uncommon sense and ability, which, in his own opinion, 
entitled him to great respect from the world. Perhaps he 
would have been glad if grown people had treated him as 
reverentially as his school-fellows did. Three of them were 
accustomed to come for him every morning ; and while he 
sat upon the back of one, the two others supported him on 
each side ; and thus he rode to school in triumph. 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


63 


Being a personage of so miicli importance, Sam could not 
bear the idea of standing all day in Uttoxeter market offer- 
ing books to the rude and ignorant country people. Doubt- 
less he felt more reluctant on account of his shabby clothes, 
and the disorder of his eyes, and the tremnlons motion of 
his head. 

When Mr. Michael Johnson spoke, Sam pouted and 
made an indistinct grumbling in his throat ; then he looked 
his old father in the face, and answered him loudly and 
deliberately. 

Sir,’’ said he, I will not go to Uttoxeter market ! ” 

Mr. Johnson had seen a great deal of the lad’s obstinacy 
ever since his birth ; and while Sam was younger, the old 
gentleman had probably used the rod whenever occasion 
seemed to require. But he was now too feeble and too 
much out of spirits to contend with this stubborn and vio- 
lent-tempered boy. He therefore gave up the point at once, 
and prepared to go to Uttoxeter himself. 

“Well, Sam,” said Mr. Johnson, as he took his hat and 
staff, “ if for the sake of your foolish pride you can suffer 
your poor sick father to stand all day in the noise and con- 
fusion of the market wdien he ought to be in his bed, I have 
no more to say. But you will think of this, Sam, when I 
am dead and gone.” 

So the poor old man (perhaps with a tear in his eye, 
but certainly with sorrow in his heart) set forth towards 
Uttoxeter. The gray-haired, feeble, melancholy Michael 
Johnson ! How sad a thing it was that he should be forced 
to go, in his sickness, and toil for the support of an un- 
grateful son who was too proud to do anything for his 
father, or his mother, or himself ! Sam looked after Mr. 


64 


THE CEAHE CLASSICS 


Johnson with a sullen countenance till he was out of 
sight. 

But when the old man’s figure, as he went stooping along 
the street, was no more to be seen, the boy’s heart began 
to smite him. He had a vivid imagination, and it tor- 
mented him with the image of his father standing in the 
market-place of Uttoxeter and offering his books to the 
noisy -crowd around him. Sam seemed to behold him ar- 
ranging his literary merchandise upon the stall in such a 
way as was best calculated to attract notice. Here was 
Addison’s Spectator,” a long row of little volumes ; here 
was Pope’s translation of the Iliad and Odyssey; here were 
Hryden’s poems, or those of Prior. Here, likewise, were 
Gulliver’s Travels,” and a variety of little gilt-covered 
children’s hooks, such as Tom Thumb,” Jack the Giant 
Queller,” Mother Goose’s Melodies,” and others which 
our great-grandparents used to read in their childhood. 
And here were sermons for the pious^ and pamphlets for 
the politicians, and ballads, some merry and some dismal 
ones, for the country people to sing. 

Sam, in imagination, saw his father offer these books, 
pamphlets, and ballads, now to the rude yeomen, who per- 
haps could not read a word; now to the country squires, 
who cared for nothing but to hunt hares and foxes; and 
now to the children, who chose to spend their coppers for 
sugar-plums or gingerbread rather than for picture-books. 
And if Mr. Johnson should sell a book to man, woman, or 
child, it would cost him an hour’s talk to get a profit of 
only sixpence. 

My poor father ! ” thought Sam to himself. How 
his head will ache ! and how heavy his heart will be ! I 
am almost sorry that I did not do as he bade me.” 


BIOGEAPHICAL STORIES 


65 


Then the boy went to his mother, who was busy about the 
house. She did not know of what had passed between Mr. 
Johnson and Sam. 

Mother,” said he, did you think father seemed very 
ill to-day ? ” ' 

Yes, Sam,” answered his mother, turning with a 
flushed face from the fire, where she was cooking their 
scanty dinner. Your father did look very ill ; and it is 
a pity he did not send you to Uttoxeter in his stead. You 
are a great boy now, and would rejoice, I am sure, to do 
something for your poor father, who has done so much for 
you.” 

The lad made no reply. But again his imagination set 
to work and conjured up another picture of poor Michael 
Johnson. He was standing in the hot sunshine of the 
market-place, and looking so weary, sick, and disconsolate, 
that the eyes of all the crowd were drawn to him. Had 
this old man no son,” the’ people would say among them- 
selves, who might- have taken his place at the book-stall 
while the father kept his bed?” And perhaps, — but this 
was a terrible thought for Sam ! — perhaps his father 
would faint away and fall do^wn in the market-place, with 
his gray hair in the dust and his venerable face as death- 
like as that of a corpse. And there would be bystanders 
gazing earnestly at Mr. Johnson and whispering, “ Is he 
dead ? Is he dead ? ” 

And Sam shuddered as he repeated to himself, Is he 
dead ? ” 

Oh, I have been a cruel son ! ” thought he within his 
own heart. '' God forgive me ! God forgive me ! ” 

But God could not yet forgive him; for he was not 
—5 • ^ 


66 


THE CRAHE CLASSICS 


truly penitent. Had lie been so, be would have hastened 
away at that very moment to Uttoxeter, and have fallen at 
-his father’s feet, even in the midst of the crowded market- 
place. There he would have confessed his fault, and be- 
sought Mr. Johnson to go home and leave the rest of the 
day’s work to him. But such was Sam’s pride and natural 
stubbornness that he could not bring himself to this hu- 
miliation. Yet he ought to have done so, for his own sake, 
for his father’s sake, and for God’s sake. 

After sunset old Michael Johnson came slowly home 
and sat do'wn in his customary chair. He said nothing to 
Sam; nor do I know that a single word ever passed be- 
tween them on the subject of the son’s disobedience. In a 
few years his father died, and left Sam to fight his way 
through the world by himself. It would make our story 
much too long were I to tell you even a few of the remark- 
able events of Sam’s life. Moreover, there is the less need 
of this, because many books have been written about that 
poor boy, and the fame that he acquired, and all that he 
did or talked of doing after he came to be a man. 

But one thing I must not neglect to say. From his boy- 
hood upward until the latest day of his life he never for- 
got the story of Uttoxeter market. Often when he was a 
scholar of the University of Oxford, or master of an acad- 
emy at Edial, or a writer for the London booksellers, — in 
all his poverty and toil and in all his success, — while he 
was walking the streets without a shilling to buy food, or 
when the greatest men of England were proud to feast 
him at their table, — still that heavy and remorseful 
thought came back to him, I was cruel to my poor father 
in his illness !” Many and many a time, awake or in his 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


67 


dreams, he seemed to see old Michael Johnson standing in 
the dust and confusicn of the market-place, and pressing 
his withered hand to his forehead as if it ached. 

Alas ! my dear children, it is a sad thing to have such 
a thought as this to bear us company through life. 

Though the story was but half finished, yet, as it was 
longer than usual, Mr. Temple here made a sort pause. 
He perceived that Emily was in tears, and Edward turned 
his half-veiled face towards the speaker with an air of 
great earnestness and interest. As for George, he had 
withdrawn into the dusky shadow behind his father’s 
chair. 


68 


THE CEANE CLASSICS 


CHAPTEE y. 


In a few moments Mr. Temple resumed the story as 
follows : 


SAMUEL JOHNSON. 


[continued.] 

Well, my children, fifty years had passed away since 
young Sam Johnson had shown himself so hard-hearted 
towards his father. It was now market-day in the vil- 
lage of Uttoxeter. 

In the street of the village you might see cattle-dealers 
with cows and oxen for sale, and pig-drovers with herds 
of squeaking swine, and farmers with cart-loads of cab- 
bages, turnips, onions, and all other produce of the soil. 
How and then a farmer’s red-faced wife trotted along 
on horseback, with butter and cheese in two large pan- 
niers. The people of the village, with country squires, 
and other visitors from the neighborhood, walked hither 
and thither, trading, jesting, quarreling, and making just 
such a bustle as their fathers and grandfathers had made 
half a century before. 

In one part of the street there was a puppet-show, 
with a ridiculous merry-andrew, who kept both grown 
people and children in a roar of laughter. On the oppo- 
site side was the old stone church of Uttoxeter, with ivy 
climbing up its walls and partly obscuring its Gothic 
windows. 

There was a clock in the gray tower of the ancient 
church, and the hands on the dial-plate had now almost 
reached the hour of noon. At this busiest hour of the 


BIOGRArHICAX STORIES 


69 


market a strange old gentleman was seen making his way 
among the crowd. He was very tall and bulky, and wore 
a brown coat and small-clothes, with black worsted stock- 
ings and buckled shoes. On his head was a three-cornered 
hat, beneath which a bushy gray wig thrust itself out, all 
in disorder. The old gentleman elbowed the people aside, 
and forced his way through the midst of them with a 
singular kind of gait, rolling his body hither and thither, 
so that he needed twice as much room as any other person 
there. 

Make way, sir ! ’’ he would cry out, in a loud, harsh 
voice, when somebody happened to interrupt his progress. 

Sir, you intrude your person into the public thorough- 
fare ! ’’ 

What a queer old fellow this is ! ’’ muttered the people 
among themselves, hardly knowing whether to laugh or to 
be angry. 

But when they looked into the venerable stranger’s face, 
not the most thoughtless among them dared to offer him 
the least impertinence. Though his features were scarred 
and distorted with the scrofula, and though his eyes were 
dim and bleared, yet there was something of authority and 
wisdom in his look, which impressed them all with awe. 
So they stood aside to let him pass ; arid the old gentleman 
made his way across the market-place, and paused near 
the comer of the ivy-mantled church. Just as he reached 
it the clock struck twelve. 

On the very spot of ground where the stranger now 
stood, some aged people remembered that old Michael 
Johnson had formerly kept his book-stall. The little 


70 


THE CKANE CLASSICS 


children who had once bought picture-books of him were 
grandfathers now. 

^^Yes; here is the very spot!’’ muttered the old gen- 
tleman to himself. 

There this unknown personage took his stand and re- 
moved the three-cornered hat from his head. It was the 
busiest hour of the day. Wliat with the hum of human 
voices, the lowing of cattle, the squeaking of pigs, and 
the laughter caused by the merry-andrew, the market- 
place was’ in very great confusion. But the stranger 
seemed not to notice it any more than if the silence of a 
desert were around him. He was rapt in his own thoughts. 
Sometimes he raised his furrowed brow to Heaven, as if in 
prayer ; sometimes he bent his head, as if an insupportable 
weight of sorrow were upon him. It increased the awful- 
ness of his aspect that there was a motion of his head and 
an almost continual tremor throughout his frame, with 
singular twitchings and contortions of his features. 

The hot sun blazed upon his unprotected head; but he 
seemed not to feel its fervor. A dark cloud swept across 
the sky and rain-drops pattered into the market-place ; but 
tlie stranger heeded not the shower. The people began to 
gaze at the mysterious old gentleman with superstitious 
fear and wonder. Who could he be? Whence did he 
come ? Wherefore was he standing bareheaded in the mar- 
]:etf place ? Even the schoolboys left the merry-andrew and 
came to gaze, with wide-open eyes, at this tall, strange-look- 
ing old man. 

There was a cattle-drover in the village who had recently 
made a journey to the Smithfield Market, in London. Ho 
sooner had this man thrust his way through the throng and 


BIOGEAPHICAL STORIES 


71 


taken a look at the unknown personage, than he whispered 
to one of his acquaintances, — 

I saj, E’eighbor Plutchins, would ye like to know who 
this old gentleman is ? ’’ 

Ay, that I would,’’ replied ISTeighbor Hutchins, ^^for a 
queerer chap I never saw in my life. Somehow it makes 
me feel small to look at him. He ’s more than a common 
man.” 

^^You may well say so,” answered the cattle-drover. 
^AVliy, that’s the famous Doctor Samuel Johnson, who 
they say is the «Teatest and learnedest man in England. I 
saw him in London streets, walking with one Mr. Boswell.” 

Yes; the poor boy, the friendless Sam, with whom w^e 
began our story, had become the famous Doctor Samuel 
Johnson. He was universally acknowledged as the wisest 
man and greatest writer in all England. He had given 
shape and permanence to his native language by his Dic- 
tionary. Thousands upon thousands of ])eople had read 
his ^Hdler,” his Rambler,” and his ^^Rasselas.” Hoble 
and wealthy men and beautiful ladies deemed it their high- 
est privilege to be his companions. Even the King of Great 
Britain had sought his acquaintance, and told him what an 
honor he considered it that such a man had been born in 
his dominions. He was now at the summit of literary re- 
nown. 

But all his fame could not extinguish the bitter remem- 
brance which had tormented him through life. Kever, 
never had he forgotten his father’s sorrowful and up- 
braiding look. Hever, though the old man’s troubles had 
been over so many years, had he forgiven himself for in- 
flicting such a pang upon his heart. And now, in his old 


72 


THE CEANE CLASSICS 


age, lie had come hither to do penance, hy standing at 
noonday, in the market-place of Uttoxeter, on the very 
spot where Michael Johnson had once kept his book-stall. 
The aged and illnstrions man had done what the poor boy 
refnsed to do. By thus expressing his deep repentance 
and humiliation of heart, he hoped to gain peace of con- 
science and the forgiveness of God. 

My dear children, if you have grieved (I will not say 
your parents, but if you have grieved) the heart of any 
human being who has a claim upon your love, then think 
of Samuel Johnson’s penance. Will it not be better to re- 
deem the error now than to endure the agony of remorse 
for fifty years ? Would you not rather say to a brother, 

1 have erred ; forgive me ! ” than perhaps to. go hereafter 
and shed bitter tears upon his grave ? 

Hardly ivas the story concluded when George hastily 
arose, and Edward likewise, stretching forth liis hands into 
the darkness that surrounded him to find his brother. 
Both accused themselves of unkindness ; each besought the 
other’s forgiveness; and liavdng done so, the trouble of 
their hearts vanished away like a dream. 

I am glad ! I am so glad ! ” said Emily, in a low, 
earnest voice. ^^How I shall sleep quietly to-night.” 

My sweet child,” thought Mrs. Temple as she kissed 
her, mayest thou never know how much strife there is on 
earth! It would cost thee many a night’s rest.” 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


73 


CHAPTEE VI. 

About tliis period Mr. Temple found it necessary to take 
a journey, wliich interrupted the series of ^^Biographical 
Stories ’’ for several evenings. In the interval, Edward 
practiced various methods of employing and amusing his 
mind. 

Sometimes he meditated upon beautiful objects which 
he had formerly seen, until the intensity of his recollection 
seemed to restore him the gift of sight and place everything 
anew before his eyes. Sometimes he repeated verses of 
poetry which he did not know to be in his memory until 
he found them there just at the time of need. Sometimes 
he attempted to solve arithmetical questions which had per- 
plexed him w’hile at school. 

Then, with his mother’s assistance, he learned the let- 
ters of the string alphabet, which is used in some of the 
institutions for the blind in Europe. When one of his 
friends gave him a leaf of St. Mark’s Gospel, printed in 
embossed characters, he endeavored to read it by passing 
his fingers over the letters as blind children do. 

His brother George was now very kind, and spent so much 
time in the darkened chamber that Edward often insisted 
upon his going out to play. George told him all about the 
affairs at school, and related many amusing incidents that 
happened among his comrades, and informed him what 
sports were now in fashion, and whose kite soared the high- 
est, and whose little ship sailed fleetest on the Frog Pond. 
As for Emily, she repeated stories which she had learned 
from a new book called The Flower People,” in which 


74 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


tlie snowdrops, the violets, the columbines, the roses, and 
all that lovely tribe are represented as tellin^j their secrets 
to a little fi^irl. The flowers talked sweetly, as flowers 
should ; • and Edward almost fancied that he could behold 
their bloom and smell their fragrant breath. 

Thus, in one way or another, the dark days of Edward’s 
confinement passed not unhappily. In due time his fathdl' 
returned ; and the next evening, wEen the family were as- 
sembled, he began a story. 

must first observe, children,” said he, ^Uhat some 
writers deny the truth of the incident wEich I am about to 
relate to you. There certainly is but little evidence in fa- 
vor of it. Other respectable writers, however, tell it for a 
fact ; and, at all events, it is an interesting story, and has 
an excellent moral.” 

So Mr. Temple proceeded to talk about the earl}^ days of 

OLIVER CROMWEI-L. 

[born 1699 . DIED 1658 .] 

E’ot long after King James I. took the place of Queen 
Elizabeth on the throne of England, there lived an English 
knight at a place called Hinchinbrooke. His name was Sir 
Oliver Cromwell. He spent his life, I suppose, pretty 
much like other English knights and squires in those days, 
hunting hares and foxes and drinking large quantities of 
ale and wine. The old house in which he dwelt had been 
occupied by his ancestors before .him for a good many years. 
In it there was a great hall, hung round with coats of arms 
and helmets, cuirasses and swords, wEich his forefathers 
had used in battle, and with horns of deer and tails of 
foxes which they or Sir Oliver himself had killed in the 
chase. 


BIOGEAPHICAL STOEIES 


75 


This Sir Oliver Cromwell had a nephew, who had been 
called Oliver, after himself, hnt who was generally known 
in the family by the name of little Xoll. His father was 
a younger brother of Sir Oliver. The child was often sent 
to visit his uncle, who probably found him a troublesome 
little fellow to take care of.- He was forever in mischief, 
and always running into some danger or other, from which 
he seemed to escape only by miracle. 

Even while he was an infant in the cradle a strange acci- 
dent had befallen him. A huge ape, which was kept in the 
family, snatched up little Holl in his fore paws and clam- 
bered with him to the roof of the house. There this ugly 
beast sat grinning at the affrighted spectators, as if it had 
done the most praiseworthy thing imaginable. Fortu- 
nately, however, he brought the child safe down again ; 
and the event was afterwards considered an omen that 
Holl would reach a very elevated station in the world. 

One morning, when Holl was five or six years old, a 
royal messenger arrived at Hinchinbrooke with tidings that 
King James was coming to dine with Sir Oliver Cromwell. 
This was a high honor, to be sure, but a very great trouble ; 
for all the lords and ladies, knights, squires, guards, and 
yeomen, who waited on the king, were to be feasted as well 
as himself ; and more provisions would be eaten and more 
wine drunk in that one day than generally in a month. 
However, Sir Oliver expressed much thankfulness for the 
king’s intended visit, and ordered his butler and cook to 
make the best preparations in their power. So a great fire 
was kindled in the kitchen ; and the neighbors knew, by the 
smoke which poured out of the chimney, that boiling. 


76 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


baking, stewing, roasting, and frying were going on mer- 
rily. 

By-and-by tbe sound of trumpets was heard approach- 
ing nearer and nearer; a heavy, old-fashioned coach, sur- 
rounded by guards on horseback, drove up to the house. 
Sir Oliver, with his hat in his hand, stood at the gate to 
receive the king. His Majesty was dressed in a suit of 
green not very new: he had a feather in his hat, and a 
triple ruff round his neck, and over his shoulder was slung 
a hunting horn instead of a sword. Altogether he had not 
the most dignified aspect in the world ; but the spectators 
gazed at him as if there was something superhuman and 
divine in his person. They even shaded their eyes with 
their hands, as if they were dazzled by the glory of his 
countenance. 

^HTow are ye, man?’^ cried King James, speaking in a 
Scotch accent ; for Scotland was his native country. By 
my crown. Sir Oliver, hut I am glad to see ye ! ’’ 

The good knight thanked the king; at the same time 
kneeling down while his Majesty alighted. ^ATien King 
J ames stood on the ground, he directed Sir Oliver’s atten- 
tion to a little boy who had come with him in the coach. 
He was six or seven years old, and wore a hat and feather, 
and was more richly dressed than the king himself. 
Though by no means an ill-looking child, he seemed shy, or 
even sulky; and his cheeks were rather pale, as if he had 
been kept moping within doors, instead of being sent out to 
pla^^in the sun and wind. 

I have brought my son Charlie to see ye,” said the king. 

I hope. Sir Oliver, ye have a son of your own to be his 
playmate.” 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


77 


Sir Oliver Cromwell made a reverential bow to tbe little 
prince, whom one of the attendants had now taken out of 
the coach. It was wonderful to see how all the spectators, 
even the aged men with their gray beards, humbled them- 
selves before this child. They bent their bodies till their 
beards almost swept the dust. They looked as if they were 
ready to kneel down and worship him. 

The poor little prince! From his earliest infancy not a 
soul had dared to contradict him ; everybody around him 
had acted as if he were a superior being ; so that, of course, 
he had imbibed the same opinion of himself. He naturally 
supposed that the whole kingdom of Great Britain and all 
its inhabitants had been created solely for his benefit and 
amusement. This was a sad mistake ; and it cost him dear 
enough after he had ascended his father^s throne. 

^^What a noble little prince he is ! exclaimed Sir Oliver, 
lifting his hands in admiration. Ho, please your Majesty, 
I have no son to be the playmate of his royal highness; 
but there is a nephew of mine somewhere about the house. 
He is near the prince’s age, and will be but too happy to 
wait upon his royal highness.” 

Send for him, man 1 send for him 1 ” said the king. 

But, as it happened, there was no need of sending for 
'Master Holl. While King James was speaking, a rugged, 
bold-faced, sturdy -little urchin thrust himself through the 
throng of courtiers and attendants, and greeted the prince 
with a broad stare. His doublet and hose (which had been 
put on new and clean in honor of the king’s visit) were 
already soiled and torn with the rough play in which he 
had spent the morning. He looked no more abashed than 


78 


THE CEAHE CLASSICS 


if King James were his uncle and the prince one of his 
customary playfellows. 

This was little Koll himself. 

Here, please your majesty, is my nephew,’’ said Sir 
Oliver, somewhat ashamed of Koll’s appearance and de- 
meanor. Oliver, make your obeisance to the king’s ma- 
jesty. 

The boy made a pretty respectful obeisance to the king ; 
for in those days children were taught to pay reverence to 
their elders. King James, who prided himself greatly on 
his scholarship, asked Koll a few questions in the Latin 
grammar, and then introduced him to his son. The little 
prince, in a very grave and dignified manner, extended 
his hand, not for Koll to shake, but that he might kneel 
down and kiss it.” 

^^Kephew,” said Sir Oliver, '^pay your duty to the 
prince.” 

I owe him no duty,” cried Koll, thrusting aside the 
prince’s hand with a rude laugh. Why should I kiss that 
boy’s hand ? ” ' 

All the courtiers were amazed and confounded, and Sir 
Oliver the most of all. But the king laughed heartily, say- 
ing that little Koll had a stubborn English spirit, and that 
it was well for his son to learn betimes what sort of a people 
he was to rule over. 

So King J ames and his train entered the house ; and the 
prince, with Koll and some other children, was sent to play 
in a separate room while his Majesty was at dinner. The 
young people soon became acquainted; for boys, whether 
the sons of monarchs or of peasants, all like play, and are 
pleased with one another’s society. MTiat games they di- 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


79 


verted themselves with I cannot tell. Perhaps they played 
at ball, perhaps at blind-man’s-buff, perhaps at leap-frog, 
perhaps at prison-bars. Such games have been in use for 
hundreds of years; and princes as well as poor children 
have spent some of their happiest hours in playing them. 

Meanwhile King James and his nobles were feasting 
with Sir Oliver in the great hall. The king sat in a gilded 
chair, under a canopy, at the head of a long table. When- 
ever any of the company addressed him, it was with the 
deepest reverence. If the attendants offered him wine, or 
the various delicacies of the festival, it was upon their 
bended knees. You would thought, by these tokens of wor- 
ship, that the monarch was a supernatural being ; only he 
seemed to have quite as much need of those vulgar matters, 
food and drink, as any other person at the table. But fate 
had ordained that good King James should not finish his 
dinner in peace. 

All of a sudden there arose a terrible uproar in the room 
where the children were at play. Angry shouts and shrill 
cries of alarm were mixed up together ; while the voices of 
elder persons were likewise heard, trying to restore order 
among the children. The king and everybody else at table 
looked aghast; for perhaps the tumult made them think 
that a general rebellion had broken out. 

Mercy on us ! ” muttered Sir Oliver ; that graceless 
nephew of mine is in some mischief or other. The naughty 
little whelp ! ” 

Getting up from table, he ran to see what was the matter, 
followed by many of the guests, and the king among them. 
They all crowded to the door of the playroom. 

On looking in, they beheld the little Prince Charles, with 


80 


THE CRAHE CLASSICS 


his rich dress all torn and covered with the dust of the 
floor. His royal blood was streaming from his nose in great 
abundance. He gazed at Holl with a mixture of rage and 
affright, and at the same time a puzzled expression, as if ho 
could not understand how any mortal boy should dare to 
give him a beating. As for Holl, there stood his sturdy 
little flgure, bold as a lion, looking as if he were ready to 
fight, not only the prince, but the king and kingdom too. 

You little villain ! ’’ cried his uncle. What have you 
been about? Down on your knees, this instant, and ask 
the prince’s pardon. How dare you lay your hands on the 
king’s majesty’s royal son ? ” 

He struck me first,” grumbled the valiant little Holl; 
and I’ve only given him his due.” 

Sir Oliver and the guests lifted up their hands in aston- 
ishment and horror. Ho punishment seemed severe enough 
for this wicked little varlet, who had dared to resent a 
blow from the king’s ovm son. Some of the courtiers were 
of opinion that Holl should be sent prisoner to the 
Tower of London and brought to trial for high treason. 
Others, in their great zeal for the king’s service, were about 
to lay hands on the boy and chastise him in the royal pres- 
ence. 

But King J ames, who sometimes showed a good deal of 
sagacity, ordered them to desist. 

Thou art a bold boy,” said he, looking fixedly at little 
Holl ; and, if thou live to be a man, my son Charlie would 
do wisely to be friends with thee.” 

I never will ! ” cried the little prince, stamping , his 

foot. 

Peace, Charlie, peace ! ” said the king ; then address- 


biographical stories 


81 


ing Sir Oliver and the attendants, ^^Harm not the urchin; 
for he has taught my son a good lesson, if Heaven do but 
give him grace to profit by it. Hereafter, should he be 
tempted to tyrannize over the stubborn race of Englishmen, 
let him remember little Holl Cromwell and his own bloody 
nose.’’ 

So the king finished his dinner and departed; and for 
many a long year the childish quarrel between Prince 
Charles and Holl Cromwell was forgotten. The prince, 
indeed, might have lived a happier life, and have met a 
more peaceful death, had he remembered that quarrel and 
the moral which his father drew from it. But when old 
King J ames was dead, and Charles sat upon his throne, he 
seemed to forget that he was but a man, and that his mean- 
est subjects were men as well as he. He wished to have the 
property and lives of the people of England entirely at his 
own disposal. But the Puritans, and all who loved liberty, 
rose against him and beat him in many battles, and pulled 
him down from his throne. 

Throughout this war between the king and nobles on one 
side and the people of England on the other, there was a 
famous leader, who did more towards the ruin of royal 
authority than all the rest. The contest seemed like a 
wrestling-match between King Charles and this strong man. 
And the king was overthrown. 

When the discrowned monarch was brought to trial, that 
warlike leader sat in the judgment hall. Many judges 
were present besides himself ; but he alone had the power 
to save King Charles or to doom him to the scaffold. After 
sentence was pronounced, this victorious general was en- 
—6 


83 


THE CRAHE CLASSICS 


treated by bis own children, on their knees, to rescue his 
Majesty from death. 

1^0 ! said he, sternly. Better that one man should 
perish than that the whole country should be ruined for his 
sake. It is resolved that he shall die ! ’’ 

When Charles, no longer a king, was led to the scaffold, 
his great enemy stood at a window of the royal palace of 
Whitehall. He beheld the poor victim of pride,- and an evil 
education, and misused power, as he laid his head upon the 
block. He looked out with a steadfast gaze while a black- 
veiled executioner lifted the fatal axe and smote off that 
anointed head at a single blow. 

^^It is a righteous deed,’’ perhaps he said to himself. 

How Englishmen may enjoy their rights.” 

At night, when the body of Charles was laid in the coffin, 
in a gloomy chamber, the general entered, lighting himself 
with a torch. Its gleam showed that he wajs now growing 
old ; his visage was scarred with the many battles in which 
he had led the van ; his brorw was wrinkled with care and 
with the continual exercise of stern authority. Probably 
there was not a single trait, either of aspect or manner, that 
belonged to the little Holl who had battled so stoutly with 
Prince Charles. Yet tliis was he ! 

He lifted the coffin-lid, and caused the light o'f his torch 
to fall upon the dead monarch’s face. Then, probably, his 
mind went back over all the marvelous events that had 
brought the hereditary King of England to this dishonored 
coffin, and had raised himself, a humble individual, to the 
possession of kingly power. He was a king, though with- 
out the empty title or the glittering crown. 

Why was it,” said Cromwell to himself, or might have 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


88 


said, as he gazed at the pale features in the coffin, — why 
was it that this great king fell, and that poor IToll Crom- 
well has gained all the power of the realm ? ’’ 

And, indeed, why was it ? 

King Charles had fallen, because, in his manhood the 
same as when a child, he disdained to feel that every hu- 
man creature was his brother. He deemed himself a supe- 
rior being, and fancied that his subjects were created only 
for a king to rule over. And Cromwell rose, because, in 
spite of his many faults, he mainly fought for the rights 
and freedom of his fellow-men ; and therefore the poor and 
the oppressed all lent their strength to him. 

Dear father, how I should hate to be a king ! ’’ ex- 
claimed Edward. 

And would you like to be a Cromwell ? ’’ inquired his 
father. 

I should like it well,’’ replied George ; only I would 
not have put the poor old king to death. I would have sent 
him out of the kingdom, or perhaps have allowed him to 
live in a small house near the gate of the royal palace. It 
was too severe to cut off his head.” 

Kings are in such an unfortunate position,” said Mr. 
Temple, that they must either be almost deified by their 
subjects, or else be dethroned and beheaded. In either case 
it is a pitiable lot.” 

Oh, I had rather be blind than be a king ! ” said Ed- 
ward. 

Well, my dear Edward,” observed his mother, with a 
smile, I am glad you are convinced that your own lot is 
not the hardest in the world.” 


84 


THE OEANE CLASSICS 


CHAPTEE VII. 

It was a pleasant sight, for those who had eyes, to see 
how patiently the blinded little boy now submitted to what 
he had at first deemed an intolerable calamity. The benefi- 
cent Creator has not allowed our comfort to depend on the 
enjoyment of any single sense. Though he has made the 
world so very beautiful, yet it is possible to be happy with- 
out ever beholding the blue sky, or the green and flowery 
earth, or the kind faces of those whom we love. Thus it 
appears that all the external beauty of the universe is a 
free gift from God over and above what is necessary to our 
comfort. How grateful, then, should we be to that divine 
Benevolence, which showers even superfluous bounties upon 
us ! 

One truth, therefore, which Edward^s blindness had 
taught him was, that his mind and soul could dispense with 
the assistance of his eyes. Doubtless, however, he would 
have found this lesson far more difiicult to learn had it not 
been for the affection of those around him. His parents, 
and George and Emily, aided him to bear his misfortune ; 
if possible, they would have lent him their own eyes. And 
this, too, was a good lesson for him. It taught him how 
dependent on one another God has ordained us to be, inso- 
much that all the necessities of mankind should incite them 
to mutual love. 

So Edward loved his friends, and perhaps all the world, 
better than he ever did before. And he felt grateful to- 
wards his father for spending the evenings in telling him 
stories, — more grateful, probably, than any of my little 


BIOGRAPHICAT. STORIES 


85 


readers will feel towards me for so carefully writing these 
same stories down. 

Come, dear father,’^ said he, the next evening, now 
tell ns about some other little boy who was destined to be 
a famous man.’’ 

How would you like a story of a Boston boy ? ” asked 
his father. 

Oh, pray let us have it ! ” cried George, eagerly. It 
will be all the better if he has been to our schools, and has 
coasted on the Common, and sailed boats in the Frog Pond. 
I shall feel acquainted with him then.” 

“ Well, then,” said Mr. Temple, I will introduce you 
to a Boston boy whom all the world became acquainted 
with after he grew to be a man.” 

The story was as follows : 

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 

[bobn 1706 . DIED 1790 .] 

In the year 1716, or about that period, a boy used to be 
seen in the streets of Boston who was known among his 
schoolfellows and playmates by the name of Ben Franklin. 
Ben was born in 1706 ; so that he was now about ten years 
old. His father, who had come over from England, was a 
soap-boiler and tallow-chandler, and resided in Milk Street, 
not far from the Old South Church. 

Ben was a bright boy at his book, and even a brighter 
one when at play with his comrades. He had some re- 
markable qualities which always seemed to give him the 
lead, whether at sport or in more serious matters. I might 
tell you a number of amusing anecdotes about him. You 
are acquainted, I suppose, with his famous story of the 


86 


THE CEAHE CLASSICS 


Whistle, and liow he bought it with a whole pocketful 
of coppers and afterwards repented of his bargain. But 
Ben had grown a great hoy since those days, and had 
gained wisdom by experience ; for it was one of his pecu- 
liarities, that no incident ever happened to him without 
teaching him some valuable lesson. Thus he generally 
profited more by his misfortunes than many people do by 
the most favorable events that could befall them. 

Ben’s face was already pretty well known to the inhab- 
itants of Boston. The selectmen and other people of note 
often used to visit his father, for the sake of talking about 
the affairs of the town or province. Mr. Franklin was con- 
sidered a person of great wisdom and integrity, and was 
respected by all who knew him, although he supported his 
family by the humble trade of boiling soap and making 
tallow candles. 

While his father and the visitors were holding deep con- 
sultations about public affairs, little Ben would sit on his 
stool in a corner, listening with the greatest interest, as if 
he understood every word. Indeed, his features were so 
full of intelligence that there could be but little doubt, not 
only that he understood what was said, but that he could 
have expressed some very sagacious opinions out of his own 
mind. But in those days boys were expected to be silent 
in the presence of their elders. However, Ben Franklin 
was looked upon as a very promising lad, wdio would talk 
and act wisely by-and-by. 

Neighbor Franklin,” his father’s friends would some- 
times say, you ought to send this boy to college and make 
a minister of him.” 

I have often thought of it,” his father would reply ; 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


87 


and my brother Benjamin promises to give him a great 
many volumes of manuscript sermons, in case he should be 
educated for the church. But I have a large family to sup- 
port, and cannot afford the expense.” 

In fact, Mr. Franklin found it so difficult to provide 
bread for his family, that, when the boy was ten years old, 
it became necessary to take him from school. Ben was 
then employed in cutting candle-wicks into equal lengths 
and filling the moulds with tallow ; and many families in 
Boston spent their evenings by the light of the candles 
^vhich he had helped to make. Thus, you see, in his early 
days, as well as in his manhood, his labors contributed to 
throw light upon dark matters. 

Busy as his life now was, Ben still found time to keep 
company with his former schoolfellows. lie and the other 
boys were very fond of fishing, and spent many of their 
leisure hours on the margin of the mill-pond, catching 
fiounders, perch, eels, and tomcod, which came up thither 
with the tide. The place where they fished is now, prob- 
ably, covered with stone pavements and hrick buildings, 
and thronged with people and with vehicles of all kinds. 
But at that period it was a marshy spot on the outskirts of 
the town, where gulls flitted and screamed overhead and 
salt-meadow grass grew under foot. 

On the edge of the water there was a deep bed of clay, 
in which the boys were forced to stand while they caught 
their fish. Here they dabbled in mud and mire like a flock 
of ducks. 

^^This is very uncomfortable,” said Ben Franklin one 
day to his comrades, while they were standing midleg deep 
in the quagmire. 


88 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


So it is,-’- said the other boys. What a pity we have 
no better place to stand ! ” 

If it had not been for Ben, nothing more -wonld have 
been done or said about the matter. But it was not in his 
nature to he sensible of an inconvenience without using his 
best efforts to find a remedy. So, as he and his comrades 
w^ere returning from the w^ater-side, Ben suddenly threw 
down his string of fish with a very determined air. 

Boys,’’ cried he, I have thought of a scheme w^hich 
will be greatly for our benefit and for the public benefit.” 

It w^as queer enough, to be sure, to hear this little chap — 
this rosy-cheeked, ten-year-old boy — talking about schemes 
for the public benefit ! Nevertheless, his companions were 
ready to listen, being assured that Ben’s scheme, wliatever 
it w^as, w^ould be w^ell worth their attention. They remem- 
bered how sagaciously he had conducted all their enter- 
prises ever since he had been old enough to wear small 
clothes. 

They remembered, too, his w^onderful contrivaiice of 
sailing across the mill-pond by lying flat on his back in the 
water and allowing himself to be drawn along by a paper 
kite. If Ben could do that, he might certainly do anything. 

^‘What is your scheme, Ben? — what is it?” cried they 
all. 

It so happened that they had now come to a spot of 
ground where a new house was to be built. Scattered round 
about lay a great many large stones wliich were to be used 
for the cellar and foundation. Ben mounted upon the 
highest of these stones, so that he might speak with the 
more authority. 

You know^, lads,” said he, what a plague it is to be 


BIOGEAPIIICAL STOETES 


89 


forced to stand in the quagmire yonder, — over shoes and 
stockings (if we wear any) in mud and water. See! I am 
bedaubed to the knees of my small-clothes; and you are 
all in the same pickle. Unless we can find some remedy 
for this evil, our fishing business must he entirely given up. 
And, surely, this would be a terrible misfortune ! ’’ 

That it would ! that it would ! ’’ said his comrades sop 
rowfully. 

^^E’ow, I propose,’’ continued Master Benjamin, ^^that 
we build a wharf, for the purpose of carrying on our fish- 
eries. You see these stones. The workmen mean ’to use 
them for the underpinning of a house ; but that would be 
for only one man’s advantage. My plan is to take these 
same stones and carry them to the edge of the water and 
build a wharf with them. This will not only enable us to 
carry on the fishing business with comfort and to better 
advantage, but it will likewise be a great convenience to 
boats passing up and down the stream. Thus, instead of 
one man, fifty, or a hundred, or a thousand, besides our- 
selves may be benefited by these stones. What say you, 
lads ? Shall we build the wharf ? ” 

Ben’s proposal was received with one of those uproarious 
shouts wherewith boys usually express their delight at 
whatever completely suits their views. Uobody thought of 
questioning the right and justice of building a wharf with 
stones that belonged to another person. 

- Hurrah ! hurrah ! ” shouted they. Let’s set about it.” 

It was agreed that they should all be on the spot that 
evening and commence their grand public enterprise by 
moonlight. Accordingly, at the appointed time, the whole 
gang of youthful laborers assembled, and eagerly began to 


90 


THE CEAHE CLASSICS 


remove tlie stones. They had not calculated how much toil 
would be requisite In this important part of their under- 
taking. The very first stone which they laid hold of proved 
so heavy that it almost seemed to be fastened to the ground. 
^N^othing but Ben Franklin’s cheerful and resolute spirit 
could have induced them to persevere. 

Ben, as might be expected, was the soul of the enterprise. 
By his mechanical genius, he contrived methods to lighten 
the labor of transporting the stones, so that one boy, under 
his directions, would perform as much as half a dozen if 
left to themselves. Whenever their spirits flagged he had 
some joke ready, which seemed to renew their strength, by 
setting them all into a roar of laughter. And when, after 
an hour or two of hard work, the stones were transported 
to the water-side, Ben Franklin was the engineer to super- 
intend the construction of the wharf. 

The boys, like a colony of ants, performed a great deal 
of labor by their multitude, though the individual strength 
of each could have accomplished but little. Finally, just 
as the moon sank below the horizon, the great work was 
finished. 

F'ow, boys,” cried Ben, let’s give three cheers and go 
home to bed. To-morrow we may catch fish at our ease.” 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! ” shouted his comrades. 

Then they all went home in such an ecstasy of delight 
that they could hardly get a wink of sleep. 

The story was not yet finished ; but George’s impatience 
caused him to interrupt it. 

^^How I wish that I could have helped to build that 


BIOGEAPHICAL STOKIES 


91 


wharf ! ’’ exclaimed he. It must have been glorious fun. 
Ben Franklin forever, saj I.” 

It was a very pretty piece of work,^’ said Mr. Temple. 

But wait till you hear the end of the story.” 

Father,” inquired Edward, ^Svhereabouts in Boston 
was the mill-pond on which Ben built his wharf ? ” 

I do not exactly know,” answered Mr. Temple ; hut I 
suppose it to have been on the northern verge of the town, 
in the vicinity of what are now called Merrimack and 
Charlestown Streets. That thronged portion of the city 
was once a marsh. Some of it, in fact, was covered with 
water.” 


92 


THE CEANE CLASSICS 


CHAPTEK VIII. 

As the children had no more questions to ask, Mr. Tem- 
ple proceeded to relate what consequences ensued from the 
building of Ben Franklin’s wharf. 

BENJAMIN EEANKLIN. 

[continued.] 

In the morning, when the early sunbeams were gleam- 
ing on the steeples and roofs of the town and gilding the 
Avater that surrounded it, the masons came, rubbing their 
eyes, to begin their Avork at the foundation of the ucaa" 
house. But, on reaching the spot, they rubbed their eyes 
so much the harder. What had become of their heap of 
stones ? 

Why, Sam,” said one to another, in great perplexity, 
“ here’s been some Avitchcraft at work Avhile we Avere asleep. 
The stones must have floAvn away through the air ! ” 

More likely they haA^e been stolen ! ” ansAvered Sam. 

But Avho on earth Avonld think of stealing a heap of 
stones ? ” cried a third. Could a man carry them away 
in his pocket ? ” 

.The master mason, Avho Avas a gruff kind of man, stood 
scratching his head, and said nothing at first. But, look- 
ing carefully on the ground, he discerned innumerable 
tracks of little feet, some with shoes and some barefoot. 
FolloAving these tracks with his eye, he saAV that they 
formed a beaten path towards the Avater-side. 

Ah, I see Avhat the mischief is,” said he, nodding his 
head. Those little rascals, the boys, — they have stolen 
our stones to build a wharf with ! ” 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


93 


The masons immediately went to examine the new struc- 
ture. And, to say the truth, it was well worth looking at, 
so neatly and with such admirable skill had it been planned 
and finished. These stones were put together so securely 
that there was no danger of their being loosened by the 
tide, however swiftly it might sweep along. There was a 
broad and safe platform to stand upon, whence the little 
fishermen might cast their lines into deep water and draw 
up fish in abundance. Indeed, it almost seemed as if Ben 
and his comrades might be forgiven for taking the stones, 
because they had done their job in such a workmanlike 
manner. 

The chaps that built this wharf understood their busi- 
ness pretty well,’’ said one of the masons. “ I should not 
be ashamed of such a piece of work myself.” 

But the master mason did not seem to enjoy the joke. 
He was one of those unreasonable people who care a great 
deal more for their own rights and privileges than for the 
convenience of all the rest of the world. 

Sam,” said he, more gruffly than usual, go call a 
constable.” 

So Sam called a constable, and inquiries were set on foot 
to discover the perpetrators of the theft. In the course of 
the day warrants were issued, with the signature of a 
justice of the peace, to take the bodies of Benjamin Frank- 
lin, and other evil-disposed persons, who had stolen a heap 
of stones. If the owner of the stolen property had not been 
more merciful than the master mason, it might have gone 
hard with our friend Benjamin and his fellow-laborers. 
But, luckily for them, the gentleman had a respect for 
Ben’s father, and, moreover, was amused with the spirit of 


94 


THE CEAITE CLASSICS 


the whole affair. He therefore let the culprits off pretty 
easily. 

But, when the constables were dismissed, the poor boys 
had to go through another trial, and receive sentence, and 
suffer execution, too, from their own fathers. Many a rod, 
I grieve to say, was worn to the stump on that unlucky 
night. 

As for Ben, he was less afraid of a whipping than of his 
father’s disapprobation. Mr. Franklin, as I have men- 
tioned before, was a sagacious man, and also an inflexibly 
upright one. He had read much for a person in his rank 
of life, and had pondered upon the ways of the world, until 
he had gained more wisdom than a whole library of books 
could have taught him. Ben had a greater reverence for 
his father than for any other person in the world, as well 
on account of his spotless integrity as of his practical sense 
and deep views of things. 

Consequently, after being released from the clutches of 
the law, Ben came into his father’s presence with no small 
perturbation of mind. 

Benjamin, come hither,” began Mr. Franklin, in his 
customary solemn and weighty tone. 

The boy approached and stood before his father’s chair, 
waiting reverently to hear what judgment this good man 
would pass upon his late offense. He felt that now the 
right and wrong of the whole matter would be made to 
appear. 

Benjamin,” said his father, ^^what could induce you 
to take property which did not belong to you ? ” 

'' Why, father,” replied Ben, hanging his head at first, 
but then lifting his eyes to Mr. Franklin’s face, if it had 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


95 


been merely for my own benefit, I never sboiild have 
dreamed of it. But I knew that the wharf would be a pub- 
lic convenience. If the owner of the stones should build 
a house with them, nobody will enjoy any advantage ex- 
cept himself. ISTow, I made use of them in a way that was 
for the advantage of many persons. I thought it right to 
aim at doing good to the greatest number.’’ 

^^My son,” said Mr. Franklin, solemnly, ^^so far as it 
was in your power, you have done a greater harm to the 
public than to the owmer of the stones.” 

How can that be, father ? ” asked Ben. 

Because,” answered his father, in building your 
wharf with stolen materials, you have committed a moral 
wrong. There is no more terrible mistake than to violate 
what is eternally right for the sake of a seeming expedi- 
ency. Those who act upon such a principle do the utmost 
in their power to destroy all that is good in the world.” 

Heaven forbid!” said Benjamin. 

^^Ho act,” continued Mr. Franklin, ^^can possibly be 
for the benefit of the public generally which involves in- 
justice to any individual. It would be easy to prove this 
by examples. But, indeed, can we suppose that our all- 
Avise and just Creator Avould have so ordered the affairs of 
the world that a wrong act should be the true method of 
attaining a right end ? It is impious to think so. And I 
do verily believe, Benjamin, that almost all the public and 
private misery of mankind arises from a neglect of this 
great truth, — that evil can produce only evil, — that good 
ends must be wrought out by good means.” 

I will neA^er forget it again,” said Benjamin, bowing 
his head. 


96 


THE CRAHE CLASSICS 


Remember/’ concluded his father, that, whenever we 
vary from the highest rule of right, just so far we do an 
injury to the world. It may seem otherwise for the mo- 
ment; but, both in time and in eternity, it will be found 
so.” 

To the close of his life Ben Franklin never forgot this 
conversation with his father; and we have reason to sup- 
pose that, in most of his public and private career, he en- 
deavored to act upon the principles which that good and 
Vvdse man then taught him. 

After the great event of building the wharf, Ben con- 
tinued to cut wick-yarn and fill candle-moulds for about 
two years. But, as he had no love for that occupation, his 
father often took him to see various artisans at their work, 
in order to discover what trade he would prefer. Thus 
Ben learned the use of a great many tools, the knowledge of 
which afterwards proved very useful to him. But he 
seemed much inclined to go to sea. In order to keep him 
at home, and likewise to gratify his taste for letters, the lad 
was bound apprentice to his elder brother, who had lately 
set up a printing-ofiice in Boston. 

Here he had many opportunities of reading new books 
and of hearing instructive conversation. He exercised 
himself so successfully in writing compositions, that, when 
no more than thirteen or fourteen years old, he became a 
contributor to his brother’s newspaper. Ben was also a 
versifier, if not a poet. He made two doleful ballads, — one 
about the shipwreck of Captain Worthilake ; and the other 
about the pirate Black Beard, who, not long before, infested 
the American seas. 

When Ben’s verses were printed, his brother sent him to 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


97 


sell them to the towns-people wet from the press. Buy 
my ballads ! shouted Benjamin, as he trudged through the 
streets with a basketful on his arm. Whodl buy a ballad 
about Black Beard ? A penny apiece ! a penny apiece ! 
WhoHl buy my ballads ? ’’ 

If one of those roughly composed and rudely printed 
ballads could be discovered now, it would be worth more 
than its weight in gold. 

In this way our friend Benjamin spent his boyhood and 
youth, until, on account of some disagreement with his 
brother, he left his native town and went to Philadelphia. 
He landed in the latter city, a homeless and hungry young 
man, and bought threepence worth of bread to satisfy his 
appetite. Hot knowing where else to go, he entered a 
Quaker meeting-house, sat down, and fell fast asleep. He 
has not told us whether his slumbers were visited by any 
dreams. But it would have been a strange dream, indeed, 
and an incredible one, that should have, foretold how great 
a man he was destined to become, and how much he would 
be honored in that very city where he was now friendless 
and unknovm. 

So here we finish our story of the childhood of Benjamin 
Franklin. One of these days, if you would know what he 
was in his manhood, you must read his own works and the 
history of ximerican independence. 

Ho let us hear a little more of him ! ’’ said Edward ; 

not that I admire him so much as many other characters ; 
but he interests me, because he was a Yankee boy.’’ 

My dear son,” replied Mr. Temple, it would require 
a whole volume of talk to tell you all that is worth knowing 
-7 


98 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


about Benjamin Franklin. ’ There is a very pretty anec- 
dote of his flying a kite in the midst of a thunder-storm, 
and thus drawing down the lightning from the clouds and 
proving that it was the same thing as electricity. His 
whole life would be an interesting story, if we had time to 
tell it.” 

But, pray, dear father, tell us what made him so fa- 
mous,” said George. have seen his portrait a great 
many times. There is a wooden bust of him in one of 
our streets; and marble ones, I suppose, in some other 
places. And towns, and ships of war, and steamboats, and 
banks, and academies, and children, are often named after 
Franklin. Why should he have grown so very famous ? ” 

Your question is a reasonable one, George,” answered 
his father. doubt whether Frankliifls philosophical 

discoveries, important as they were, or even his vast politi- 
cal services, would have given him all the fame which he 
acquired. It appears to me that “Poor Bichard’s Alma- 
nac” did more than anything else towards making him 
familiarly known to the public. As the writer of those 
proverbs which Poor Bichard was supposed to utter, Frank- 
lin became the counsellor and household friend of almost 
every family in America. Thus it was the humblest of all 
his labors that has done the most for his fame.” 

“ I have read some of those proverbs,” remarked Ed- 
ward ; but I do not like them. They are all about getting 
money or saving it.” 

“Well,” said his father, “they were suited to the con- 
dition of the country ; and their effect, upon the whole, has 
doubtless been good, although they teach men but a very 
small portion of their duties.” 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


99 


CHAPTER IX. 

Hitherto Mr. Temple’s narratives had all been about 
boys and men. But, the next evening, he bethought him- 
self that the quiet little Emily would perhaps be glad to 
hear the story of a child of her own sex. He therefore 
resolved to narrate the youthful adventures of Christina, 
of Sweden, who began to he a queen at the age of no more 
than six years. If we have any little girls among our read- 
ers, they must not suppose that Christina is set before them 
as a pattern of what they ought to be. On the contrary, the 
tale of her life is chiefly profitable as showing the evil ef- 
fects of a wrong education, which caused this daughter of 
a king to be both useless and unhappy. Here follows the 
story. 

QUEEH CHRISTINA. 

[bobn 1626 . DIEU 1689 .] 

In the royal palace at Stockholm, the capital city of 
Sweden, there was born, in 1626, a little princess. The 
king, her father, gave her the name of Christina, in mem- 
ory of a Swedish girl with whom he had been in love. His 
own name was Gustavus Adolphus ; and he was also called 
the Lion of the Xorth, because he had gained greater fame 
in war than any other prince or general then alive. With 
this valiant king for their commander, the Swedes had 
made themselves terrible to the Emperor of Germany and 
to the King of France, and were looked upon as the chief 
defense of the Protestant religion. 

The little Christina was by no means a beautiful child. 
To confess the truth, she was remarkably plain. The queen. 


LoiC.. 


100 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


her mother, did not love her so much as she ought ; partly, 
perhaps, on account of Christina’s want of beauty, and 
also because both the king and queen had wished for a son, 
who might have gained as great renown in battle as his 
father had. 

The king, however, soon became exceedingly fond of the 
infant princess. When Christina was very young she was 
taken violently sick. Gustavus Adolphus, who was several 
hundred miles from Stockholm, traveled night and day, 
and never rested until he held the poor child in his arms. 
On her recovery he made a solemn festival, in order to show 
his joy to the people of Sweden and express his gratitude 
to heaven. After this event he took his daughter with him 
in all the journeys which he made throughout his kingdom. 

Christina soon proved herself a bold and sturdy little 
girl. When she was two years old, the king and herself, in 
the course of a journey, came to the strong fortress of Col- 
mar. On the battlements were soldiers clad in steel armor, 
which glittered in the sunshine. There were likewise great 
cannons, pointing their black mouths at Gustavus and little 
Christina, and ready to belch out their smoke and thunder ; 
for, whenever a king enters a fortress, it is customary to 
receive him with a royal salute of artillery. 

But the captain of the fortress met Gustavus and his 
daughter as they were about to enter the gateway. 

^^May it please your Majesty,” said he, taking off his 
steel cap and bowing profoundly, I fear that, if we re- 
ceive you with a salute of cannon, the little princess will 
be frightened almost to death.” 

Gustavus looked earnestly at his daughter, and was in- 
deed apprehensive that the thunder of so many cannon 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


101 


might perhaps throw her into convulsions. He had almost 
a mind to tell the captain to let them enter the fortress 
quietly, as common people might have done, without all 
this head-splitting racket. But no ; this would not do. 

Let them fire,” said he, waving his hand. Christina 
is a soldier’s daughter, and must learn to bear the noise of 
cannon.” 

So the captain uttered the word of command, and im- 
mediately there was a terrible peal of thunder from the 
cannon, and such a gush of smoke that it enveloped the 
whole fortress in its volumes. But, amid all the din and 
confusion, Christina was seen clapping her little hands, 
and laughing in an ecstasy of delight. Probably nothing 
ever pleased her father so much as to see that his daughter 
promised to be as fearless as himself. He determined to 
educate her exactly as if she had been a boy, and to teach 
her all the knowledge needful to the ruler of a kingdom 
and the commander of an army. 

But Gustavus should have remembered that Providence 
had created her to be a woman, and that it was not for 
him to make a man of her. 

However, the king derived great happiness from his be- 
loved Christina. It must have been a pleasant sight to see 
the powerful monarch of Sweden playing in some magnifi- 
cent hall of the palace with his merry little girl. Then ho 
forgot that the weight of a kingdom rested upon his shoul- 
ders. He forgot that the Avise Chancellor Oxenstiern Avas 
waiting to consult with him hoAv to render SAveden the 
greatest nation of Europe. He forgot that the Emperor of 
Germany and the King of France were plotting together 
how they might pull him down from his throne. 


102 


THE CEANE CLASSICS 


Yes; Gustavus forgot all tlie perils, and cares, and 
pompons irksomeness of a royal life; and was as happy, 
while playing with his child, as the humblest peasant in 
the realm of Sweden. How gayly did they dance along 
the marble floor of the palace, this valiant king, with his 
upright, martial flgure, his war-worn visage, and com- 
manding aspect, and the small, round form of Christina, 
with her rosy face of childish merriment! Her little 
Angers were clasped in her father’s hand, which had held 
the leading sfaff in many famous victories. His crown 
and sceptre were her playthings. She could disarm Gus- 
tavus of his sword which was so terrible to the princes 
of Europe. 

But, alas! the king was not long permitted to enjoy 
Christina’s society. When she was four years old Gus- 
tavus was summoned to take command of the allied armies 
of Germany, which were flghting against the emperor. 
His greatest affliction was the necessity of parting with 
his child ; but people in such high stations have but little 
opportunity for domestic happiness. He called an assem- 
bly of the senators of Sweden and conflded Christina to 
their care, saying, that each one of them must be a father 
to her if he himself should fall in battle. 

At the moment of his departure Christina ran towards 
him and began to address him with a speech which some- 
body had taught her for the occasion. Gustavus was 
busied with thoughts about the affairs of the kingdom, 
so that he did not immediately attend to the childish voice 
of his little girl. Christina, who did not love to be un- 
noticed, immediately stopped short and pulled him by 
the coat. , I , 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


103 


Father/’ said she, why do not you listen to my 
speech ? ” 

In a moment the king forgot everything except that he 
was parting with what he loved best in all the world. 
He caught the child in his arms, pressed her to his bosom, 
and burst into tears. Yes; though he was a brave man, 
and though he wore a steel corselet on his breast, and 
though armies were waiting for him to lead them to battle, 
still his heart melted within him, and he wept. Chris- 
tina, too, was so afflicted that her attendants began to fear 
that she would actually die of grief. But probably she 
was soon comforted; for children seldom remember their 
parents quite so faithfully as their parents remember 
them. 

For two years more Christina remained in the palace 
at Stockholm. The queen, her mother, had accompanied 
Gustavus to the wars. The child, therefore, was left to 
the guardianship of five of the wisest men in the kingdom. 
But these wise men knew better how to manage the affairs 
of state than how to govern and educate a little girl so as 
to render her a good and happy woman. 

When two years had passed away, tidings were brought 
to Stockholm which filled everybody with triumph and 
sorrow at the same time. The Swedes had won a glorious 
victory at Lutzen. But, alas ! the warlike King of Sweden, 
the Lion of the Korth, the father of our little Christina, 
had been slain at the foot of a great stone, which still 
marks the spot of that hero’s death. 

Soon after this sad event, a general assembly, or con- 
gress, consisting of deputations from the nobles, the clergy, 
the burghers, and the peasants of Sweden, was summoned 


104 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


to meet at Stockholm. It was for the purpose of declaring 
little Christina to be Queen of Sweden, and giving her the 
crown and sceptre of her deceased father. Silence being 
proclaimed, the Chancellor Oxenstiem arose. 

We desire to know,’’ said he, whether the people of 
Sweden will take the daughter of our dead king, Gustavus 
Adolphus, to" be their queen.” 

When the chancellor had spoken, an old man, with 
Avhite hair and in coarse apparel, stood up in the midst of 
the assembly. He was a peasant, Lars Larrson by name, 
and had spent most of his life in laboring on a farm. 

Who is this daughter of Gustavus ? ” asked the old 
man. We do not know her. Let her be shown to us.” 

Then Christina was brought into the hall and placed 
before the old peasant. It was strange, no doubt, to see 
a child — a little girl of six years old — offered to the 
Swedes as their ruler instead of the brave king, her father, 
who had led them to victory so many times. Could her 
baby fingers wield a sword in war? Could her childish 
mind govern the nation wisely in peace ? 

But the Swedes do not appear to have asked themselves 
these questions. Old Lars Larrson took Christina up in his 
arms and gazed earnestly into her face. He had known 
the great Gustavus well ; and his heart was touched when 
he saw the likeness which the little girl bore to that heroic 
monarch. 

Yes,” cried he, with the tears gushing down his fur- 
rowed cheeks ; this is truly the daughter of our Gustavus ! 
Here is her father’s brow! — here is his piercing eye! 
She is his very picture ! This child shall be our queen ! ” 
Then all the proud nobles of Sweden, and the reverend 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


105 


clergy, and the burghers, and the peasants, knelt down at 
the child’s feet and kissed her hand. 

Long live Christina, Queen of Sweden ! ” shouted 
they. 

Even after she was a woman grown, Christina remem- 
bered the pleasure which she felt in seeing all these men 
at her feet and hearing them acknowledge her as their 
supreme ruler. Poor child ! she was yet to learn that 
power does not insure happiness. As yet, however, she 
had not any real power. All the public business, it is 
true, was transacted in her name; but the kingdom was 
governed by a number of the most experienced statesmen, 
who were called a regency. 

But it was considered necessary that the little queen 
should be present at the public ceremonies, and should 
behave just as if she were in reality the ruler of the 
nation. When she w^as seven years of age, some ambassa- 
dors from the Czar of Muscovy came to the Swedish court. 
They wore long beards, and were clad in a strange fashion, 
with furs and other outlandish ornaments; and as they 
were inhabitants of a half-civilized country, they did not 
behave like other people. The Chancellor Oxenstiern was 
afraid that the young queen would burst out a-laughing 
at the first sight of these queer ambassadors, or else that 
she would be frightened by their unusual aspect. 

^‘Why should I be frightened?” said the little queen. 
^^And do you suppose that I have no better manners than 
to laugh? Only tell me how I must behave, and I will 
do it.” ' 

Accordingly, the Muscovite ambassadors were intro- 
duced; and Christina received them and answered their 


106 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


speeches with as much dignity and propriety as if she 
had been a grown woman. 

All this time, though Christina was now a queen, you 
must not suppose that she was left to act as -she pleased. 
She had a preceptor, named John Mathias, who was a 
very learned man and capable of instructing her in all 
the branches of science. But there was nobody to teach 
her the delicate graces and gentle virtues of a woman. 
She was surrounded almost entirely by men, and had 
learned to despise the society of her own sex. At the age 
of nine years she was separated from her mother, whom 
the Swedes did not consider a proper person to be in- 
trusted with the charge of her. little girl who sits by 
a ISTew England fireside has cause to envy Christina in 
the royal palace at Stockholm. 

Yet she made great progress in her studies. She learned 
to read the classical authors of Greece and Borne, and be- 
came a great admirer of the heroes and poets of old times. 
Then, as for active exercises, she could ride on horseback 
as well as any man in her own kingdom. She was fond of 
hunting, and could shoot at a mark with wonderful skill. 
But dancing was the only feminine accomplishment with 
which she had any acquaintance. 

She was so restless in her disposition that none of her 
attendants were sure of a moment’s quiet either day or 
night. She grew up, I am sorry to say, a very unamiable 
person, ill-tempered, proud, stubborn, and, in short, unfit 
to make those around her happy, or to be happy herself. 
Let every little girl, who has been taught self-control and 
a due regard for the rights of others, thank Heaven that 


BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 


107 


• she has had better instruction than this poor little Queen 
of Sweden. 

At the age of eighteen Christina was declared free to 
govern the kingdom by herself without the aid of a re- 
gency. At this period of her life she was a young woman 
of striking aspect, a good figure, and intelligent face, but 
very strangely dressed. She wore a short habit of gray 
cloth, with a man’s vest over it, and a black scarf around 
her neck; but no jewels nor ornaments of any kind. 

Yet, though Christina was so negligent of her appear- 
ance, there was something in her air and manner that 
proclaimed her as the ruler of a kingdom. Her eyes, it is 
said, had a very fierce and haughty look. Old General 
Wrangel, who had often caused the enemies of Sweden 
to tremble in battle, actually trembled himself when he 
encountered the eyes of the queen. But it would have 
been better for Christina if she could have made people 
love her, by means of soft and gentle looks, instead of 
affrighting them by such terrible glances. 

And now I have told you almost all that is amusing or 
instructive in the childhood of Christina. Only a few more 
words need be said about her; for it is neither pleasant 
nor profitable to think of many things that she did after 
she grew to be a woman. 

When she had worn the crown a few years, she began 
to consider it beneath her dignity to be called a queen, 
because the name implied that she belonged to the weaker 
sex. She therefore caused herself to be proclaimed king ; 
thus declaring to the world that she despised her own sex 
and was desirous of being ranked among men. But in 
the twenty-eighth year of her age Christina grew tired 


108 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


of royalty, and resolved to be neither a king nor a queen 
any longer. She took the crown from her head with her 
own hands, and ceased to be the ruler of Sweden. Thp 
people did not greatly regret her abdication ; for she had 
governed them ill, and had taken much of their property 
to supply her extravagance. 

Having thus given up her hereditary crown, Christina 
left Sweden and traveled over many of the countries of 
Europe. Everywhere she was received with great cere- 
mony, bcause she was the daughter of the renowned Gus- 
tavus, and had herself been a powerful queen. Perhaps 
you would like to know something about her personal ap- 
pearance in the latter part of her life. She is described 
as wearing a man’s vest, a short gray petticoat, embroid- 
ered with gold and silver, and a black wig, which was 
thrust awry upon her head. She wore no gloves, and so 
seldom washed her hands that nobody could tell what had 
been their original color. In this strange dress, and, I 
suppose, without washing her hands or face, she visited 
the magnificent court of Louis XIV. 

She died in 1689. Xone loved her while she lived, nor 
regretted her death, nor planted a single fiower upon her 
grave. Happy are the little girls of America, who are 
brought up quietly^ and tenderly at the domestic hearth, 
and thus become gentle and delicate women ! May none of 
them ever lose the loveliness of their sex by receiving such 
an education as that of Queen Christina! 

Emily, timid, quiet, and sensitive, was the very reverse 
of little Christina. She seemed shocked at the idea of 


BIOGRAPITTCAL STORIRS 


109 


such a bold masculine character as has been described in 
the fore^oin^ story. 

I never could have loved her,” whispered she to Mrs. 
Temple; and then she added, with that love of personal 
neatness which generally accompanies purity of heart, 
“ It troubles me to think of her unclean hands ! ” 

Christina was a sad specimen of womankind indeed,” 
said Mrs. Temple. “ But it is very possible for a woman 
to have a strong mind, and to be fitted for the active busi- 
ness of life, without losing any of her natural delicacy. 
Perhaps some time or other Mr. Temple will tell you a 
story of such a woman.” 

It was now time for Edward to be left to repose. His 
brother George shook him heartily by the hand, and hoped, 
as he had hoped twenty times before, that to-morrow or 
the next day Hed’s eyes would be strong enough to look 
the sun right in the face. 

Thank you, George,” replied Edward, smiling ; “ but 
I am not half so impatient as at first. If my bodily eye- 
sight were as good as yours, perhaps I could not see things 
so distinctly with my mind’s eye. But now there is a 
light within which shows me the little Quaker artist, Ben 
West, and Isaac Hewton with his windmill, and stubborn 
Sam Johnson, and stout Holl Cromwell, and shrewd Ben 
Franklin, and little Queen Christina, with the Swedes 
kneeling at her feet. It seems as if I really saw these 
personages face to face. So I can bear the darkness out- 
side of me pretty well.” . 

When Edward ceased speaking, Emily put up her mouth 
and kissed him as her farewell for the night. 


110 


THE CRANE CLASSICS 


I forgot ! ’’ said Edward, with a sigh. I can- 
not sec any of your faces. What would it signify to see 
all the famous people in the world, if I must be blind to 
the faces that I love ? ” 

^^You must try to see us with your heart, mj dear 
child,’’ said his mother. 

Edward went to bed somewhat dispirited ; but, quickly 
falling asleep, was visited with such a pleasant dream of 
the sunshine and of his dearest friends that he felt the 
happier for it all the next day. And we hope to find him 
still happy when we meet again. 


< 




t 






V i 






1 f 


t 

'it '-j 


-i-iKf f^'^,"'’'" ■ '%;*■■■ 'a'MMii 


#:- T^-v ji -., v':?^ • 


■»iv 


'.V 


’i 


I ^ 




«r. .It 



j >.' 




»i 




» T \ > ' I 




.X 


'^J 


V 






'c 




i 


I ' l] 










V, 








.*•■ r’' 


r 






0 


«l 




i% 


.')> 




fiw 


t -SiV- 


'U Vi 


4 jr < 




rlH- 


‘4-;,,> .J 




:i<' 


x: 


*1 






V 


ill! 




•- i 


• 1 


if ‘ ■'* W'^ 

^>1. f ^ I ’ ' *4!^ ^ 


<5^ -’A 




iw 


g'Tl W^J 


f* i’ 


fT 


j:i. 




Jr 


\ » 


* -. 


t>* 'A 


f. 




u 


^ v'.C* 


-f •'j 




K 


Sf 




Hi 




'Jit 


7 


■j:N ■^•^1 , % .s’v " 


r V, 'V 


V. A 


‘‘V.u 




5f; 


' » 








J‘5' 


*.'. »* 


• > 




tr 


•1 


sSef 




• » 




a’ •> 


.• j 


•i 


'- 4 . 




> » 


». ’ 


«t'-T’ 


^ \ 

<» -1 




M_ -• 










*• I "i • 


' ▼ * » < -W» 1 


j 4 \ 


1 1 


iM 


>.- 




r> ^ 








V'/ 








-ar * 








>» 


‘iat* 


>3 


.♦ 'r> 


t ^- 


'< 4 V 


‘^4 


IM 


^ ’i 

i— ■* .*. 


fxA 




. •■'aJ;. 


» t 








n r*/ 


K .i 




^4’ 


M**** 


vr /W. 












<> 


V I 


.J»‘ ^ry 


• I 




1% i 


i'f 


s 




> ;♦ 


It-'’ 


^ r* 


I U -\^ M 










W 


• y 


f.- 




^ . -j 


«' 


\ ^ - 'j/ * ’ *" * '■' ■* * in 4^ ’ ' - ^ ' riC ^ ' '-'•** •' ^ 



A 


ia 






k J'.4k.¥>Ac 

























































